Collaborative: Everything Burns
by Igrayne01
Summary: In this collaborative sequel by CC members to A New Beginning, the heroes of the Republic struggle to make a life for themselves on Telos despite the power hungry Jana Lorso and Czerka Corporation.
1. The Ruins of Trayus Academy

**Disclaimer: This story is a collaborative effort by the members of Carth Community. We do not own anything in the Star Wars universe other than our characters. Rated 'M' for some sexual content and language.**

Touching down on the surface of Malachor V was like entering a virtual repository of death. Haunted voices floated through the mountainous crags that populated the surface of the war-torn planet. Kavar never liked traveling here. Of that much he was certain.

He eased back into the pilot's seat, setting the control systems to land the ship beside a small outcropping of rock. When he had been given this assignment by the Jedi Council, it had been an unwelcome one. Master Vrook had given him explicit instructions to scour every last inch of the Trayus Academy for any life-forms. He didn't say much, but Kavar knew that Vrook would not have given him this assignment if he wasn't sure there was something to be gained by it. He had merely given him the cryptic order for the place to be "cleansed of the Sith"—or whatever that meant. In preparation, Kavar had packed two of his best lightsabers on the off chance that he might encounter these fabled remnants of the once-grand regime that had fallen near to four months before at the decisive Battle of Dantooine.

He, himself, had felt the inexplicable lure of Malachor despite his aversion to the Force-forsaken planet and all its surrounding systems. He had felt the ebb and flow of an unseen presence through the Force, slowly dwindling with each second that passed. He couldn't identify it, but he was sure it was human.

Kavar equipped himself with a small water canteen for the short walk up to the Academy and sealed the doors to his ship. For this special trip, he wore short robes that allowed him maximum flexibility—which was just what he would need in case he encountered some of the planet's nasty natives. Thankfully, there weren't many of those, and Kavar was, for the most part, able to pass through the spires of Malachor unhindered.

As he neared the ruins of the Trayus Academy, Kavar was stricken with a sharp sensation in his head. He closed his eyes, moved to his knees, and harnessed the potent Force energies to try and understand what it was he was feeling. Moving into a meditative stance, Kavar reached out with his mind to scour the entire planet…

He could sense that the beasts were very far off—perhaps scared away by the planet's aura of oppressive power. It had been overwhelming to him, too, when the doors of his vessel had opened, and suddenly, he was immersed within the dark side energies. That didn't deter him, though. With the Force as his ally, he pushed forward relentlessly, determined to complete his mission and report back to Vrook on his progress in record time.

But his mind touched upon something else—something much fainter that lurked inside the crumbled walls of the academy. It was the same life force that he had felt moments earlier, through the Force. Kavar opened his eyes and moved with rapid speed to his feet, his robes swirling about his long, muscular form.

A single wall still stood at the heart of the wreckage—the last remaining testament to the fact that the academy had ever existed. Kavar's eyes scanned it warily, scrunching up at the corners as he realized the importance of what had transpired here and the consequences it held for the rest of the galaxy. After the war, they had enjoyed a time of relative peace. But that peace was fragile. Already, Master Vrook was beginning to speak of another enemy. When questioned of its nature, though, the master was evasive. He gave minimal input into what should be done to stop the impending threat and dismissed the matter entirely. As much as Kavar respected the wiser master, he believed in preventative measures.

Perhaps Vrook's sending him here was one such preventative measure—to stop the Sith threat from spreading to the rest of the galaxy. If need be, he'd kill a hundred Sith just to further the Jedi cause.

Kavar's senses registered that the presence was not a threat, so he refrained from drawing out his lightsabers and putting the sentient on the offensive. He pushed aside bits and pieces of the walls that had crumbled down, but his search proved fruitless. He used the Force to detect the life form again and followed it to where it led.

Kavar stepped up a steep incline to a small ridge, where more ash and stone had rained down at the destruction of the academy. There, in the center of it, was a human body. The body was immobile, and Kavar would have thought it dead except for the low, throaty sound of a woman groaning.

Kavar didn't waste any time. He immediately removed his long outer robe, wrapping it around the young human female, and sat her up.

"Are you all right?" the Jedi master asked. The woman nodded her head. Her lip was split badly and it looked painful for her to speak. Kavar did a quick scan of her vitals—she seemed to be in good condition, but was a bit roughed up.

"Where am I?"

Two dull green eyes, obviously jaded from all that they had witnessed on Malachor, stared back at him. Kavar gazed at her in non-understanding. He was hit by a wave of surprise as he recognized just who this female was.

Was this Vrook's assignment for him? To rescue a former Sith Lord, to prevent her from being restored to power? Or perhaps it was her death that the Jedi master desired. If it was, then Kavar was prepared to do just that.

"Who am I?" she said, so pitifully that Kavar was almost touched by her sincerity. Regardless, he wasn't going to waive his duty, the reason Vrook had brought him here—which was now becoming ever more apparent.

He drew the cylindrical hilt of his lightsaber out and equipped it so the green blade sprang to life. Carina's eyes opened wide with shock at him.

"What are you doing? I don't even _know_ you!"

_Nor am I going to give you the chance to pollute my mind with your trickery and deceit_, Kavar thought, biting his lip. But something stopped him from bringing the blade down and ending her life right then and there. Perhaps she really didn't recognize him. It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility. He had known of several instances in the Jedi's long, illustrious history when a traumatic occurrence had ridden a powerful enemy's mind of all its memories. In those cases, the foes in question were then indoctrinated with Jedi teachings, and all trace of their previous lives was completely erased. It was practically standard procedure where the Jedi were concerned.

Now things were beginning to make sense.

Kavar deactivated the lightsaber, clipping it to his belt almost penitently. He made no excuse for this sudden action, but the sorry look on his face told Carina that he would never again try to hurt her. Something about him convinced her of that fact—perhaps it was his superior-looking robes, or his gentle tone of voice, or the kind glow that illuminated his blue eyes when he talked to her.

He held out his hand to her, helping her to stand.

"You've taken a great hit. Do you remember anything—_anything_—before seeing me?"

As he spoke, he balanced before her in a half-crouch, his hand reassuringly settled on her forearm.

"No," she said, desperately trying to recall what had happened. "Do you know who I am?"

"I'm afraid not." He said this with true sorrow—mostly angry with himself for perpetuating the lie that would lead her to believe she had been nothing more than a harmless sentient caught in the midst of a colossal war. "Come, my ship is nearby. It's best you come with me."

She leaned her weight on him as he helped her to stand. He was firm with her, but his actions were kind. She knew she had nothing to fear from him. He was the only other human she'd had contact with since—well, since before she could remember.

As Kavar escorted her onto his ship and sealed the doors for departure, his hands trembled a little on the ship's controls. He was taking an awful risk by bringing her back to the Jedi Temple. Just allowing her on the ship was dangerous. Should her memory choose to return while in transit—it could spell dire consequences for the both of them.

Kavar helped her into a small, unoccupied room at the back of the ship and instructed her to wash up. Carina obeyed him because he spoke very authoritatively, instructing her like a teacher. She used the facilities in the small 'fresher and looked at herself in the mirror.

Her skin was pale and covered with dirt, and her lip was split. Her hair, frazzled at the ends, stood out in places. With a bit of work, she could clean up just nice. She didn't really recognize the person staring back at her, only that it was a pleasant, pretty face that quite agreed with her.

When she came out of the 'fresher, her mysterious benefactor was already up at the ship's controls, piloting them away from the planet's surface. He hadn't had time to properly introduce himself to her, but she suspected he had done that purposefully.

Carina rummaged around in a small cache for an old blanket that was folded up inside of it and wrapped it around her before slipping off to sleep. The last thing she remembered before closing her eyes was the stoic man sitting at the controls and the bucking of the ship in time to his commands.

----------------

Rani sighed in relief as she plopped down on the couch. It was days like the one she just had that made her wonder if it was all worth it. The fame, the publicity...could it truly be worth all the stress that she had to deal with? She felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, and instinctively placed her head against a solid shoulder beside her.

Carth smiled at her. "Tough day at the office?"

"You could say that," Rani replied, snuggling up to him. "Why is it so cold in here?"

"The heater broke down last night...I thought you would've noticed sooner," he answered, smoothing down a few wrinkles on her shirt with his thumb.

"I've been too busy to do anything other than worry about Telos."

"You feeling all right?" he queried, noticing how pale she looked.

She shrugged indifferently. "Physically...I'm bushed. Mentally, I'm worn out. Emotionally...I'm stable, if that counts for anything."

Carth chuckled at her tone. "I think you're spending too much time working nowadays--"

"You're just paranoid I'll leave you for my work," Rani said, cracking a smile. "Besides, my work doesn't have a hideously colored orange jacket...so I might just do that."

"You said you liked my jacket!" Carth exclaimed.

Rani burst into laughter as she played with one of several strands of hair that fell over Carth's forehead into his eyes constantly. "Oh, I'm just kidding."

There was a comfortable moment of silence as Carth just held the woman he loved in his arms. So much had happened since he'd first met her. Some of said things that had happened were for the best, and others were not. He was just thankful that the Force had brought him such a beautiful woman to love and pour all his attention and affection on.

"You really want to do this then?" Carth asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Becoming a Senator would help our cause dramatically. We would get a more powerful say in the Senate...and that would mean more action, more quickly," Rani pointed out. "Besides, you know I can't just sit around and do nothing while all the problems surrounding Telos continue happening."

"You're referring to Czerka, I assume?"

"Who else?" She sighed, rubbing her forehead gingerly. "I just have a bad feeling about them and their..._work_. It seems they're battling us at every turn more than helping. I don't trust them."

"Now who's the paranoid one?" Carth teased. She slapped him on the shoulder playfully. "Violence, my dear? Now, that's certainly a new one—"

"Oh, hush. I don't have time to get into things with you right now," Rani explained. "I have to attend another election meeting in an hour."

Carth groaned.

"It's just going to be for several hours. I promise to be back before dinner," Rani promised.

"This is becoming ridiculous, Rani. I hardly see you anymore, except for at night..." Carth sighed wistfully.

Rani touched the side of his face gently. "I'm doing this for you, for us...for Telos. This planet needs some stronger leadership than it has. And I want to help heal this planet...it was beautiful. I want to see it beautiful again, Carth."

"So do I, but not if you end up killing yourself in the process. You do realize you are going to gain enemies one way or another by becoming a senator?" Carth asked, trying to talk some sense into his beautiful companion. "It's dangerous work."

"Dangerous as in fighting undead Sith Lords?"

"Very funny, Rani."

Rani laughed. "Oh, come on, Carth. Lighten up. Not everyone in the Galaxy is out to get someone else."

"Only most of them," Carth replied without hesitation.

Rani rolled her eyes and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on Carth's lips. "I suppose you are right in that respect. I was out to get you."

Carth's expression softened. "I'm glad you succeeded."

Rani felt Carth's arm slide around her waist, pinning her down against the couch. Carth captured her mouth in a searing kiss, while she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned against him. However, as much as she wanted him to show her how much he loved her...she had plans that couldn't be postponed nor rescheduled. When she broke their kiss, Carth frowned.

"I'm sorry, Carth. Tonight, I promise." She whispered breathlessly to him.

Carth kissed her again, though less passionately than before knowing that he was going to lose this argument. "Why not now?"

"I have my appointment to go to—"

"It can wait."

"No, it can't."

"It can."

"Carth..." She said in her most condescending and authoritative voice. "You behave and go busy yourself with something."

"I am busying myself with something," he said playfully. "Actually, I'm busying myself with something better than a something, I'm busying myself with someone that happens to be a beautiful woman named Rani."

"Always the flatterer," Rani replied, tracing a line down his face.

"You know you love it."

"Never said I didn't," she said, before adding, "But I also said that I have somewhere to be. And I do...so if you'll kindly move."

Carth didn't budge.

"Now." He still didn't move. Rani sighed. "Please, Carth? This means a lot to me. I _want_ to be the Senator for Telos. And I can't if you hold me up like this every meeting I need to attend."

Carth stood up, bringing her up to her feet as well. "You're not going to be able to avoid me tonight, Beautiful."

"Is that a promise?" Rani asked with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

"Indeed it is," Carth replied, kissing her one last time before she went to the 'fresher to get ready.

---------------------

Bao-Dur piloted the ship, eager to return to Telos to help with the Telos Restoration Project. It had once been a beautiful planet full of life, and it deserved a fate better than it had gotten. He intended to see that it got said fate, but as long as it had no leader to run things...the Restoration was having difficulties actually accomplishing anything of importance. And if there was anything that bugged Bao-Dur more than that was seeing all his hard work going down the tubes.

Igrayne tossed her lightsaber between her hands, back and forth in an attempt to entertain herself while they approached Telos. She occasionally glanced at Bao to see if he was doing anything interesting, which he wasn't. After all, it wasn't rocket science to pilot a ship. Of course, she wasn't the best space pilot...but that wasn't her fault. She'd never been properly taught like Bao had.

"You might want to strap up, we're going to be landing soon and Telos' atmosphere is a bit rough," Bao notified.

Igrayne nodded, buckling up just for safety. It'd been a long several weeks while the Jedi sent her and Bao to Ansion where there'd been a bit of a border dispute between the natives and several big corporations looking to set up there. Fortunately, they had gotten there before any bloodshed happened. Settling the dispute had been agonizingly long and she was looking forward to just relaxing with Bao-Dur on Telos for a while.

"So..." she began, eager to start some conversation with the Zabrak.

"So?"

"Think the Jedi will send us on any more missions for a while?"

"The Galaxy in is turmoil. I believe it is a good bet to say that they will...though I hope they will give us a few moments of peace to relax," Bao-Dur replied reasonably. "Why?"

"I was just wondering," Igrayne answered.

"Is something bothering you?" Bao-Dur asked, noticing her frown.

Igrayne shrugged. "I'm not sure...but I have a bad feeling. It just came over me, but I think something bad is going to happen. Soon."

"Bad? How bad?"

"I'm not sure...but I have a feeling we're in danger," Igrayne said, checking the ship's radar. "No approaching vessels...yet something doesn't--"

"Feel right," Bao finished for her. "I agree. Something's off. We should notify the Telos Security Force as soon as we land."

"I doubt the TSF will be able to help...not in time, anyway," Igrayne said, fingering her lightsaber hilt nervously. "Are we about to land?"

"Several more minutes."

Igrayne nodded in response to his clipped answer. She couldn't place it...but something was wrong. The ship bucked as it began the landing sequence, the landing gear extending for them to settle easily on the landing platform. Citadel station was going to be their temporary home, and part of her was just eager to get off the ship. Then it hit her.

"The ship."

"What?"

"Oh Force, Bao! The ship!" she exclaimed, unbuckling herself and rushing towards the engine room.

Bao could only watch her rush off, too busy landing the ship. She reappeared several minutes later, breathless.

"What was that about?" He asked, concerned.

"Nothing...I just--" She cut her sentence off mid-sentence, noticing they'd landed safely. "Come on, let's get off this ship before something bad happens..."

"General?" Bao queried. "What's wrong with the ship?"

Igrayne merely shook her head, securing her lightsabers to her waist. "I guess nothing. I thought it might have been...oh, never mind."

The two quickly locked the ship's controls to avoid from someone stealing it, and then lowered the loading ramp. Igrayne was the first one to descend it...extremely eager to get off the cursed ship. They had borrowed it from some Ansion, and now she was having doubts about having done that course of action in the first place. Bao-Dur quickly followed behind her, wary as she was.

Then there was a bright flash of light, and Igrayne found herself on the floor. Sound immediately followed the flash of light, and heat swarmed over her. She cried out, rolling to the side just in time before a large chunk of shrapnel collided with the ground where she had previously been. Security alarms started going off as metal cascaded around the room, flying into the walls and ground around her. She managed to manipulate the Force into a small Force barrier, but only to protect her from small pieces of shrapnel.

Their ship had exploded.

Her gut instinct had been right, but it was too late to follow it now. Igrayne breathed as the ship finally ceased it's erratic explosion. Her back felt scorched and she knew she was going to have to get medical treatment for it soon. Fortunately, she had been a decent ways away from the ship when it blew and her robe had also protected her from the heat from the blast.

_Bao-Dur!_ Her mind screamed out, and she turned slowly. Pain enveloped her body with every movement she made but she was too determined to find Bao-Dur to worry about it. _Please be all right, please...please..._

The Zabrak had been less fortunate, however, having been caught directly in the blast. His clothes were scorched badly, and a piece of shrapnel was protruding from his side, which he was managing somehow to keep from bleeding out. His face showed how much pain he was in, unable to fall unconscious. Igrayne limped over to him, placing a hand on his beaten up forehead.

Security and medical personnel arrived on the scene shortly thereafter. Among said personnel was a familiar blonde doctor. Igrayne recognized Mical immediately and was thankful to see a familiar face in the midst of such chaos.

"Igrayne!" Mical cried, upon seeing her, and immediately rushed up to help support her weight. "You're going to want to stay off that leg. It looks like it got pretty badly scorched. Were you caught in the blast?"

Igrayne shook her head. "Not really...well, kind of...you need to help Bao, Mical!"

Mical looked to the Zabrak who was moaning in pain as the medical staff lifted him carefully onto a stretcher. "I'll see what I can do."

Igrayne looked extremely concerned and Mical knew the reason why. She was in love with Bao-Dur.

"Please save him, Mical," She whispered.

Mical nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. "Of course."

Though Mical's smile was reassuring, he only served to make her more concerned. He was a constant reminder of the loss of their friend, Carina, whom had sacrificed her to save the Galaxy. The blonde doctor's eyes seemed hollow and empty, and he looked far older than he was. Igrayne pitied him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Mical. I would appreciate anything you could do to help him," Igrayne said, as several medics on Mical's staff helped her onto a stretcher as well. She wasn't nearly as wounded as Bao-Dur but she was in dire needed of some kolto and needed to be checked to make sure she didn't have any serious wounds.

Before Igrayne was taken away, Mical told her, "Don't over-exert yourself worrying about Bao. That's my job."

She smiled and nodded as she was taken away to a nearby medical facility.

-------------------------

Indy awoke with a start. She was breathing heavily, and she quickly wiped away a few sweaty strands of hair that had fallen into her face. What time was it? Better yet, what was she doing? She looked down at the thing before her and noticed that she still had a small brush in her hand, then she noticed the small clay artifact lying on the desk.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to get rid of the sleepy feeling she had. Her eyes drifted to the chrono on the wall. Five-thirty at night. She had been working on this artifact since yesterday, but continued to get distracted. First, it was by the news. Apparently, her good friend Rani was running for the position of Senator of Telos. Indy was happy for her, especially seeing how happy she looked when standing beside Admiral Carth Onasi.

Then she'd fallen asleep. When she had woken several hours later, she didn't feel like eating...so she hadn't. She'd then continued working on her artifact, until just recently when she assumed she'd fallen asleep. Again. This was getting old...she felt as if her life held no real meaning anymore. She was engrossed in her work; it consumed her. It was all she really had now that everyone had gone their separate ways after the Battle of Dantooine.

She stood, stretching her achy limbs. _I should really get out more..._ she thought to herself as she stumbled in the dark over towards the 'fresher. Upon reaching it, she switched on the light switch and immediately covered her eyes.

"AH! Light!" She groaned, turning it off almost as immediately as she'd turned it on.

She decided she could shower well-enough in the dark. So she did just that, but not before slipping on a piece of soap, banging her arm on the side of the 'fresher's shower and then tripping over a small rug after getting out of the shower. She supposed it just wasn't her day. She quickly plopped right back down in a seat beside her desk and grabbed the priceless artifact.

"What's the point...?" She growled, placing it back on the desk.

Part of her often wondered what life would be like had she not pushed away Han...but she knew she'd most likely never know. He was probably out somewhere, in some cantina, drinking himself silly and flirting with some Twi'lek whore. _Well,_ Indy thought bitterly, _if he wants to go out and make nothing out of himself, who am I to stop him?_

She decided she'd check out the news, so she switched on her holovision, slumping into a chair adjacent to it. But as soon as she turned it on, she was met with an unbelievable sight. A ship was in flames, and smoking, and then the scene changed to a medical room where she noticed a few familiar faces.

"Igrayne!" she cried upon seeing her friend with bruises on her face.

"..so do you think this is an attack to warn off any who intend to help the Telos Restoration project?" The media person asked, emotionless.

"Well, it certainly won't stop the Jedi from assisting in aiding the Telosians and Telosian government, if that is what you're asking." Igrayne replied, though her voice was weak and pained.

"So it was an attack? Perhaps on the Jedi! Are the Sith involved?"

"I never said that—" Igrayne began, disliking the fact that she was being provoked.

Then a blonde doctor appeared on the camera and Indy's jaw dropped.

"My patient needs rest. I do not approve of her getting upset over being asked ridiculous questions. You are going to have to wait, _Sir_." Mical gritted out, and security quickly made the media people leave shortly, then it went back to it's regularly scheduled program.

Indy felt so inferior. Here her friends were aiding different programs, and she was sitting on her butt perfecting the appearance of a small artifact for some random museum. It was at that point that Indy decided she'd pay a little visit to her friends who were currently residing in a medical facility...

--------------------

Carina's eyes fluttered open as the ship lurched out of hyperspace. She hated not knowing who she was...in fact, she couldn't remember everything. It was as if she was just born, with no memory of the world around her. All she had was a small cylindrical device that she'd found hooked to her waist after she'd cleaned up a bit in the 'fresher. A lot of help that little device was...she didn't even know what it was, so how could it help her?

Her frustration was clearly displayed on her features but she was sitting behind Kavar so he didn't notice, except he sensed the change in her mood through the Force. She was immensely strong in the Force, he noted, but she seemed to not know anything about it. However, if she had merely lost her memory...and she was a Sith, then that would explain it. He was taking a great risk...but something about her seemed oddly familiar. Not only that, but she didn't seem like a threat to him...and he was usually dead on in his assumptions.

He just hoped the Council on Dantooine wouldn't reprimand him on his course of action. It wasn't as if it were his fault in the first place. They had given him cryptic information, and who were they to judge him on what he did if they didn't actually ask him to do something specifically.

Carina groaned as she shifted in her seat. Her sides hurt immensely, and the bruises on her face hurt as well even when she wasn't touching them or moving. Whatever had happened to her had been bad, and she was partially grateful that she couldn't remember that. However, the silence in the cockpit of the ship was beginning to get to her.

"Before...you spoke of trickery and deceit. Were you referring to me?" Carina asked softly, her tone resembled that of a shy child.

Kavar froze. He hadn't said that out loud, merely in his mind. "You heard me say that?"

"Yes," she replied.

"I apologize then...I thought you were someone else—"

"Who?" Carina asked instantly.

Kavar decided it would be better were he to withhold the truth of whom he thought her to be for the moment. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

Silence fell once again, and Kavar could sense she was lying about her hunger. He'd never known a Sith Lord to be this..._timid_.  
h asked again, his tone a lot softer in an attempt to sway her.

Her eyes shot to him, deep emerald colored eyes that seemed to penetrate his thoughts. "I don't want to be a burden."

Her humility was admirable, and Kavar couldn't believe that she'd been a Sith lord. So perhaps he had been wrong in his assumption. He reached into a small container and lifted out a small ration bar, and tossed it to her. She caught it with amazing speed.

"Thank you," she said, smiling softly. Though when she smiled, her eyes lit up and her features softened considerably.

Kavar nodded in response. "You're welcome."

Kavar didn't know what it was about this woman, but he felt strangely connected to her...almost protective. It was strange, and he couldn't explain it. He only hoped the Council could provide the answers he sought.

---------------

Captain John Mithic piloted the _Sunbeam_ towards Coruscant. With his new promotion in the ranks of the Republic, he also got a sleek new ship. He needed it with all the assignments he was volunteering for. He had traveled the Galaxy on many varied missions, and while he worked, he also kept an eye and ear out for his darker side. Mithic could sense very little from Eklipse, and he worried just what his only family, and number one nemesis, was up to.

Since the Battle of Dantooine, John had grown quite close to Admiral Carth Onasi. There was a sense of mutual respect between Mithic and his commander. Carth admired John's efficiency and skills, and Mithic thought highly of the Admiral's leadership capabilities and dedication. As much as Mithic liked Onasi, he could not reveal his true self to the Admiral. Mithic liked to work alone, and he felt that telling the Admiral everything would only bode worse for the Galaxy. The less the Republic knew about Eklipse, the better, as far as Captain Mithic was concerned.

John eased the _Sunbeam_ out of hyperspace above the atmosphere of Coruscant. The planet was not beautiful to him from such a distance. The whole planet was grey with red glowing lights in patterned designs on the surface. Parts of the planet were urbanely aesthetic, but Coruscant also had its slums. Unfortunately for Mithic, such a place was his destination.

He effortlessly eased the ship into a docking bay of the closest Republic base to his objective. Piloting was as easy as walking to Mithic. The chrome hull of his new ship gleamed as he set her down. He'd never owned such a ship, and he was used to the _Moonlight_, but the comfort of his bigger ship was growing on him.

Mithic did not waste any time once he'd landed. He spoke with the required officials at the base, and then headed off, alone, toward the abandoned apartment building, the evening sun casting a reddish glow on his stern features. Admiral Onasi no longer argued with him to take reinforcements to his assignments. Mithic worked better when he did not have to worry about protecting anyone but himself, and he had always gotten the job done on his own.

The streets were littered with broken glass and twisted metal. John once stepped in some sticky substance that he did not want to ponder the origin of. Several disreputable-looking characters had walked by him, but most took little notice, as John had taken precautions to hide his Republic officer's uniform under a heavy black cloak.

The intel reports he read said that the suspicious activity had been rumored in the old building, and Mithic had been sent to investigate its nature. Mithic found the crumbling structure and doubted that anything that was a threat to the Republic could be centered in there. The windows had all been shattered out, and Mithic couldn't see any lights or any traces of life.

Sensing little threat, John simply walked through the front door. What must have been the front lobby was dusted with ceiling fragments, making the floors slippery. He tried the elevators, but they must have been out of service, because they did not operate. The dim light of the evening was barely enough for Mithic to see, and he stumbled upon a staircase. The stairs leading up were worn and dilapidated, and Mithic was brave, but not stupid. He turned his attention to finding an alternate route and found a dark stairway leading down. Much to the Captain's surprise, the steps appeared newly repaired and quite strong enough to bear his weight.

Unwilling to draw unnecessary attention, Mithic felt his way haltingly down the stairs. When he finally reached the bottom, he had to rub his eyes to make sure that the faint light coming from down the dark hallway was not just a figment of his imagination. As his eyes adjusted, Mithic continued to walk towards the light. Finally, John made out the source of the light. The computer screen displayed a list of some sort, and Mithic cautiously entered the room through the open door, glancing around the room for any presence.

The outline of the tall and sturdy figure soon came into focus. Mithic wondered why he didn't spot the man sooner, until he saw the black robes draped over the broad shoulders. In a flash, a deep blue glow filled the room as a lightsaber shot towards Mithic's throat. John barely got to his lightsaber in time, and the silver blade sprung out of the hilt just in time to block the assault. His block did little to slow the onslaught as the other man swung his lightsaber with electrifying speed. John had great skill with a lightsaber himself, but this man's skills rivaled his own. Mithic itched to use his Force powers to gain an advantage, but held back. John did not know who his attacker was, and he could not risk revealing his secret identity to the Galaxy.

Captain Mithic soon found himself panting with exertion, and he took a defensive stance to give himself some time to recover. Fortunately, his opponent seemed to be tiring also, and the man's speed slowed to more manageable levels. In an attempt to gain the upper hand, Mithic took a risky swing at his opponent's head, hoping to catch him off guard. The move worked, and the man stepped back, interrupting his flurry to intercept Mithic's blade. The two lightsabers met in a burst of light, momentarily bathing the bearer of the navy blue lightsaber in a revealing glow. John recognized the face of a fellow "Hero of the Republic."

"Trentyn?!" Mithic exclaimed in surprise, "what the hell are you doing here?"

At the sound of his name, the man deactivated his lightsaber and switched on the lights.

"Mithic! You son of a Kath Hound! You scared the shit out of me!"

"I could say the same! Why did you attack me?"

Trentyn glanced down the dim hallway before closing the door.

"Are you alone?" Tren asked while squinting his eyes.

"Of course! I work alone. I have no need for reinforcements."

"Right…" Tren scoffed.

"Hey, got the list of our hopeful little gizka finished yet?" Atton's voice permeated the room.

Tren hastily picked his commlink off the desk.

"Atton, we have a visitor," Tren remarked slyly into the commlink.

"I told you man, you get the hot Twi'lek twins all to yourself. I may be a scoundrel, but I'm a one-woman scoundrel." Atton answered.

"Uh, no… our visitor is a man," Trentyn answered.

"Bro! I love you, but why the new curiosity? Are you bored with all the hot women you get?" Atton laughed.

"Just get your ass over here!" Tren said, chuckling.

As the commlink went silent, Mithic needed some answers. He was here on a mission, and he had to figure out what the suspicious activity he was sent to investigate entailed.

"Trentyn, what are you and Atton doing here?"

Tren's eyes dipped to view Mithic's uniform that was peeking through his cloak.

"So, you are still working for the Republic?" Tren's question was more of a statement.

"I presume you aren't," Mithic stated.

"No, I'm not, but I'm not working against the Republic either," Tren said vaguely.

"You still haven't answered my question," Mithic declared, unblinking. He wasn't going to let the charismatic man talk his way out.

"Imagine that," Tren said with a smile.

Suddenly, a blast shook the entire building right down to its foundation and debris scattered throughout the room as chunks of the ceiling fell.

"Was this your plan?!" Trentyn roared over the noise.

"This is not of mine or the Republic's doing!" Mithic yelled back.

John rushed towards the door, but was not able to make it in time before the ceiling came crumbling down, blocking his way.

"This way!" Tren ordered as he yanked out a panel in the wall that had gone previously unnoticed by Mithic.

Tren hunched over and entered the tunnel that the panel had covered, and Mithic followed with little other choice. Soon, Mithic could see nothing in the darkness, but continued to jog down the tunnel. John noticed that it was angling upward, and soon Trentyn grunted as he shouldered something hard. A creak of metal sounded, and Mithic found that the tunnel ended outside of a neighboring building.

"Dude! You're alive!" Atton exclaimed, happy to see his best friend emerging unscathed.

"I'm tougher than that," Tren said cockily, but with an equally happy smile to match Atton's.

Atton noticed Mithic emerging from the tunnel.

"John Mithic… does this have anything to do with you?" Atton asked in an unfriendly tone while gesturing towards the crumbling building.

"The Republic has nothing to do with this," Mithic repeated. He measured his words carefully to avoid lying. It was true that the explosion was not done by the Republic, but did it have something to do with Mithic?

"I don't know what you guys were doing here, but obviously someone's on to you. There could be more surprises waiting for you here on Coruscant. I have a ship with me, and I think that we should go back to Citadel Station." Mithic did not know Tren or Atton too well, but he knew that Trentyn was Rani's brother, and it was probably in the Admiral's best interests to keep him alive. In addition, both men were considered to be heroes of the Republic, and it was Mithic's responsibility in his eyes to help them out.

Trentyn stared at Mithic for a few moments, as if weighing his words and deciding whether or not to trust the Captain.

"All right, we'll go," Tren said to Mithic.

"It'll be a good place to regroup anyway," Trentyn said turning to Atton.

"Okay, man, but I'm not leaving without Evy," Atton said firmly.

"Get her, and meet me at the _Sunbeam_. That's my ship and she's in the docking bay at the Republic base," Mithic instructed as he pointed to the towering structure that was a few blocks away.

As Mithic departed, Atton and Trentyn ran the opposite direction, towards the hospital that Evy worked in. They didn't even bother to check in the lobby and instead went straight to her office. In their haste to make sure they got Evy off of the planet and out of danger, they burst in through her door.

There, they found Evy in her scrubs, a surgical face mask still dangling around her neck. She sat completely still in a meditative pose, and a Jedi woman mirrored her pose.

Both men stood completely still in silence, in shock over the scene.

Evy was nonplussed as she stood, her hands resting authoritatively on her hips.

"Don't you boys ever knock?" she asked, a fair eyebrow rose in a challenging expression.

"What is she doing here?" Atton asked, pointing at the Jedi. He had never totally forgiven the woman for almost preventing Evy from being with him.

The dark-haired Jedi also stood, ignoring Trentyn completely, and instead glaring at Atton.

"I have merely come to visit my friend. Is that a problem, Atton Rand?" she asked.

"Are you trying to recruit her to the Jedi again, Bastila?" he shot back.

"Oh, don't be foolish, Atton. Evy has made her choice."

"Not to put a damper on this amusing reunion," Tren started, "but our headquarters were just bombed, and we need to leave, now." Tren also avoided Bastila's eyes.

"I have a job here! I can't just leave my patients!" Evy protested.

"Listen kitten, there's plenty of nursing to be done on Telos," Trentyn said.

"I'm coming with you," Bastila said.

"Excuse me?" Tren replied, finally looking at her.

"I have _Jedi_ business to attend to there," she answered.

"I'm sure you do…" Trentyn grumbled back.

Evy took a few possessions including her small nursing kit from her office, before the four headed out towards the Republic base. It wasn't a far walk, and they made it there soon, passing by the rubble that was all that remained of the apartment building that housed Atton and Tren's operations.

Once they made it to the docking bay, Mithic was mildly surprised to see Bastila, but didn't let it show on his face. Nothing about the ways of the Force shocked John anymore. He grudgingly allowed Bastila to take the copilot's seat as he powered up the engines for departure.

"How are the power levels on the converter?" she asked.

"Fine," Mithic responded.

"Did you reset the shocks?"

"Yes…"

"And the navicomputer, did you put in the coordinates already?" Bastila questioned.

"I have everything handled, Jedi! Are you always like this?" Mithic fumed with irritation.

Bastila glanced over the back of her chair, meeting eyes momentarily with Trentyn. She hadn't seen him in over three months. She should have known that a relationship between a devoted Jedi and a prior Sith wouldn't be easy. The look exchanged between Bastila and Tren was all the information John needed. He dismissed Bastila's annoying habits as due to Tren's proximity, and he continued to prepare the _Sunbeam_ for takeoff.


	2. An Audience with the Jedi Council

Indy was a couple of hours into her trip when the familiar lurch of being pulled out of hyperspace knocked her off her feet where she stood in the main hold. _Huh? It's still hours until the ship reaches Telos, what happening now?_ she thought as she picked up her fedora from beside her and got up on her feet. With a soft sigh she headed for the cockpit.

The _Centurion's Blade_, which had been returned to her after the battle at Dantooine, was as shabby as ever. Indy admitted, with a sense of regret, that she had ignored the maintenance of the ship. During her journeys she had only fixed on the ship so that it was flyable and safe to be on, but this resulted in several malfunctions which frustrated her to no end.

Maybe the sudden stop was the _Centurion_ trying to remind her that the ship was falling apart.

Getting into the pilots seat she fiddled with the controls for a bit. She would have to find out what the problem was so she could fix it, but she feared it was beyond her skill in repair.

The ship shuddered again and she swiveled her chair toward the navicomputer. She would have to land the pile of junk before it fell apart. The only nearby planet was Corellia, her eyes glazed over slightly as she remembered what had happened on that planet.

It had been on Corellia where they had met Admiral Onasi and his posse of nurses. She chuckled slightly, remembering Rani, Igrayne, Evy and Carina. Not to mention that scoundrel Atton, and the mechanical expert Bao.

Deciding to head to her home world, which she hadn't visited since the fateful day in _The Lucky Cannok_, she pressed a few buttons and steered towards the sphere in the distance.

----------------

Igrayne sat patiently on a bed in the medical facility awaiting a doctor to come check on her burns. She was worried about Bao, but she knew Mical would take care of him. He was an old friend after all.

Soon a man with a white coat walked in and started checking her burns and looking for any additional wounds. While he was applying the kolto to them she decided to find out how Bao-Dur was.

"Excuse me, but do you know anything about the other wounded?" She examined the doctor's reaction to her question, hoping she could siphon that piece of information from him.

"He is currently stable, and the doctors are doing what they can to help him." The doctor said with a smile. Igrayne nodded with a slight smile in return and closed her eyes. She could feel Bao's presence. He was in pain, but she knew he would pull through.

---------------

The sun was just beginning to set when Mical returned to inform Igrayne of Bao-Dur's condition. The Zabrak had been badly burned, and thrown from the impact of the blast having been caught directly in it; this cause severe damage to his skin, as well as he had a few broken ribs. The piece of shrapnel that had buried itself in Bao's abdomen had been extremely difficult to surgically remove but they had managed to do so without Bao bleeding out.

The blonde doctor's steps echoed voluminously as he headed toward Igrayne's room. Although it was nice to see his old friends again, it brought back memories best left forgotten. It reminded him of previous times...of certain _people_, of whom he didn't necessarily wish to forget, but merely bury within his memories. He rubbed his forehead gently; he felt a headache coming on.

Pushing the door open slightly so as not to wake her if she was asleep, Mical stepped in. Igrayne was sitting up in her bed, flipping through a magazine and her expression showed that said magazine wasn't really holding her attention.

"Igrayne?" Mical said softly, upon entering the room to get her attention.

Igrayne's eyes immediately flew to Mical, a look of concern obviously shown on her features. "Mical, how's—"

"Bao-Dur is doing better. He was in critical condition when we brought him in, but he's stable now. The wound to his abdomen fortunately did not puncture any major arteries, which prevented him from bleeding to death," Mical explained softly. "He is tougher than he looks."

"That he is. So do you think he'll make a full recovery?" Igrayne asked.

"It's hard to say. The blast did tear into his leg as well, severing some tendons, but I believe that can be fixed and corrected," Mical replied. "So yes, I believe he will make a full recovery. Though it may take time."

Igrayne nodded.

Mical took a seat beside her in a chair adjacent to her bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"No pain whatsoever?" he queried.

"I'm more concerned about Bao-Dur to worry about anything else."

Mical looked sympathetically at her. "I understand how you feel."

Igrayne's eyes softened. "I'm sure you do."

Mical straightened himself again, regaining his composure. She was gone, he shouldn't be so consumed with thoughts of her, yet he was, and he feared it would affect his work.

"Make sure you drink plenty of fluids, and don't try exerting yourself too much at the moment," Mical said authoritatively.

"Sure thing."

Mical hesitated before leaving the room. His thoughts were a mixture of different feelings and emotions. Part of him really wanted to speak with Igrayne—one who would also understand how he felt—about Carina, but the other part was frightened to even bring the topic up. His hand rested on the button to open the door, but when he finally did press it, Igrayne spoke up.

"Hey, Mical?"

"Yes?" he replied, turning around almost too eagerly.

"Thank you for saving Bao," she said simply.

His heart plummeted. "Of course. It was my pleasure to do so. He is, after all, a good friend of ours."

Igrayne's smile did nothing to aid his unpleasant thoughts. He nodded to her and then left the room.

----------------

Indy's ship bucked and rocked as it landed roughly on one of the many landing platforms that adorned the surface of Corellia. It had been a while since she'd visited her homeplanet's surface. As usual, the streets of Corellia were bustling with people going about their daily chores. She figured they were probably all ignorantly unaware of all the danger in the Galaxy at the moment. Things had settled down, sure, but that was usually when people let their guard down and in turn were attacked for it.

Indy made sure she had her blaster safely in her holster before slipping into a shady looking mechanic shop. She didn't really have many credits on her so she was going to have to settle for minimal repairs.

"What do you what?" the business owner asked, wiping some disgusting substance from his face.

_No wonder this guy has little business,_ Indy thought as she walked confidently up towards the man. "I need my ship to be repaired as soon as possible."

"Doesn't everyone these days?" he grumbled before adding, "How much credits you got?"

"Enough for basic repairs," she replied evasively.

The owner snorted. "Basic repairs? Like?"

"I suspect my motivator isn't working correctly, it keeps stalling during mid-flight."

"Faulty motivator, huh? That'll be seven hundred and fifty credits to fix."

"Seven hundred and fifty?! That's ridiculous!"

"That's the price."

"I'm not made of money, you know," Indy said angrily.

"Tough luck, sweet cheeks. That's the deal. No credits, no repairs."

That was the last straw. Indy didn't have time to mess around arguing with him. She leaned over the counter, grabbing him around the collar and leaned dangerously close.

"You will make the repairs for one hundred and seventy five credits," she demanded.

The owner didn't seem fazed one bit. "Or what? You'll kill me?"

"Worse," Indy threatened, "I'll let you live."

The owner was confused for a moment before Indy's elbow landed right in his stomach, and then her arm came crashing down on his head, nearly knocking him unconscious. He stumbled backwards, trying to defend himself pitifully from the next blow. But Indy had her gun out now, aimed directly at the owner.

"Now, we can be civilized about this, and you can make the repairs to my ship," Indy cocked her gun, "Or you can lose a finger."

"I'm just trying to make a living, lady!"

Indy scoffed. "I've known too many people like you to know what 'making a living' is to you. You force children to work and create parts, the whole time you relax on your savings. And then when needy people ask you to repair or upgrade their ship, you cost them a bloody fortune. Well, I'm not going to take that shit from you. My friends need me right now, so you better not stand in my way or I swear on the Force I'll blow your bloody head off."

Silence ensued as the owner scrambled to get the parts Indy needed. Indy holstered her gun and took a deep breath. She usually didn't lose her cool like that but when she did, it was usually for a good reason. The reason being she hated slimewads like this guy who took advantage of innocent people. And when children were brought into the equation, Indy could barely stand people like him.

"Take 'em. For free...but don't expect to have me install them," The man said, before adding under his breath, "Bitch."

Indy took the motivator part and stuffed it into her pants pocket. It was amazing that such a small part could make such a large difference. She guessed that it worked that way with people. One person could change the face of the Galaxy with one action...

_Oh great, I've been hanging around Jedi too long. They've got me cryptically pondering philosophies now,_ Indy thought, groaning inwardly as she headed out of the shop.

However, before going back to the ship, she ran into a man she hadn't expected to see ever again. She looked the scoundrel up and down, trying to comprehend whether or not it was really him and not just a figment of her imagination. Her hand would have normally gone to her blaster, but just seeing Han again put her in a stasis frame of mind.

She felt herself staring and her cheeks grew hot but she covered it with an insult. "Slumming on Corellia now, are we?"

Han grimaced. "Nice to see you again too, Indy."

"What are you doing here?" she snapped at him.

"Whoa, relax, kid. I'm here for business, if you must know," Han said calmly. "I could ask you the same question, however."

"It's none of your business." _Shut up, Indy!_ Indy yelled silently to herself.

Han leaned against the wall of the alleyway that Indy had so thoughtfully chosen to head down. She should have known better than to try and take a shortcut. It never got her anywhere in life. Except maybe back the way she'd come from.

"Indy, I—" Han began, his tone growing serious.

Indy held up an imperious hand to him, learning that move from Bastila and Carina who had often used it. "Save it. Your business is obviously none of mine...so, I'll just be going on my way—"

Han now moved in front of her, determined not to let her sneak away. "Not so fast. Not before we talk."

"Talk? About what? You made it clear you didn't want to be around me when you deserted us like a cowardly traitor the night before the Battle of Dantooine!" Indy cried, trying to push past Han.

"Is that what's got you so angry? You told me to leave, Indy! I was only doing what you told me too!" Han exclaimed.

"If I told you to jump off a cliff, would you?"

"Depends if I have a parachute or not—"

She slapped him roughly on the shoulder. "I was being serious!"

"So was I!"

Awkward silence fell between them, and Indy felt her will dissolve just being so close to Han again. "Just go away, Han."

Han raised his hands up, palms toward Indy. "Fine. I will. But first..."

Indy tried backing up, but Han caught her wrists before she was able to. Her eyes immediately shot to his.

He lowered his voice and whispered, "Indy, you're in danger."

"That's nonsense—"

"Shut up and listen for once, Indy," Han said, losing his patience. "You've made powerful enemies. My boss wants that small artifact you have...and he's willing to do anything to get it."

"Is that a threat?"

Han sighed, exasperated. "Indy, I'm on your side if you would only listen to me!"

"I can handle myself," Indy said irritably.

Han let go of her. "I give up. You want to throw yourself into danger, then go ahead. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Indy then pushed past Han. Moments later she was nearing her ship when she heard footsteps behind her. She whipped out her gun and aimed at the follower behind her. She sighed in relief, seeing it was only Han.

"What now?!" she demanded.

"I'm going to protect you," he said admirably.

"No, I'm leaving."

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not," Indy said, almost frantically. Han...on her ship? They would be alone...and _that_ would prove to be disastrous.

"Yes, I am," Han urged.

"No."

"Yes."

"Han!"

"I am coming and that's that! Deal with it, kid." He stalked past her and onto the ship.

Indy growled in frustration and stomped up after him, grumbling about stupid dark-haired smugglers.

-------------

The ship's commlink buzzed pleasantly to inform Kavar that he was receiving an incoming message. He picked up the transmitter end and spoke his name into it.

"There's been a change of plans, Kavar," Master Dorak's voice jounced. "Come to Coruscant. Vrook has called a council session in the Jedi Temple. I'll transmit the coordinates."

He was pretty vague with the details, but Kavar knew it wasn't wise to transmit important information over something that could be tapped into, such as a commlink. He silently cursed Vrook for giving him this mission, and furthermore, for not informing him of the Sith that now slept at his ship's back, peacefully dreaming. Almost no trace existed of the woman that had once effortlessly slain both Jedi and Sith by the dozens.

Kavar plotted his new course toward Coruscant, gazing at the endless vista of stars that twinkled in empty space. He would be grateful to be grounded again, even if there was unfinished business he needed to take up with the Council over the discovery of Carina's existence.

A flurry of movement behind him alerted him to the fact that his passenger had awoken. As he swung his seat around, she stared sleepily at him from the ship's cargo hold. She held one hand over her wide, red mouth, suppressing a yawn.

"Where are we?"

"Coruscant," Kavar said, turning around to focus on the viewport. Staring for long periods of time at the woman made him unsettled. Something about her recalled to mind the countless atrocities she had committed during her short reign of terror. Though his Jedi training instructed him to be level-headed and fair in his thought processes, he could quickly see it was failing him whenever Carina was near.

"Capital of the Republic," he added under his breath as he eased the ship in for a safe landing. The streams and streams of repulsorlift traffic whizzed by around them, as did freighters carrying contraband as well as legal trade goods. Kavar did his best to avoid them, dodging from side to side while arguing for clearance to land.

As the landing platform came into sight, Carina was awed. She had never seen such a large-scale city. Kavar explained to her a little of the planet's history as he cut the power to the engines and the ship rolled into place on the platform.

Coruscant, an ecumenopolis, dominated the galaxy as the seat of power for the Galactic Republic. Everything about its appearance seemed to mirror that stately grandeur. A towering high-rise of buildings overlooked a gleaming range of mountainous edifices. A myopic oversight in its planning—or so Kavar thought. He preferred the scenic, mineral-rich grasslands of Naboo, with its rolling green hills, refreshing streams, and cool climate. From time to time, when he was not on active duty, he would escape there to meditate for a few days at a time. His last padawan had recently become a Jedi knight, giving him time to engage in these little visits more frequently.

Thankfully, its molten core kept the planet warm—but not overly so. Kavar shrugged his robes about his shoulders, adopting a more authoritative stance. Carina followed close behind as he left his ship to the care of a few attendants, who scurried to get it off the landing platform and into the hangar bay.

"Where are we going?" Carina asked, frustrated with the lack of answers. Kavar merely answered her with a hand gesture that told her she was to follow him. She obeyed quietly, walking into the center hall of the Jedi Temple where they were greeted by a woman in dark robes. She gave Kavar some instructions about where to find a man named Vrook then dismissed them with a little wave.

"You a Jedi or something?" Carina asked, trying to make small talk as she struggled to keep the pace with the taller man. He looked slightly annoyed by all her questions.

"So it would seem."

"Yeah, well, your robes kind of gave it away." Carina paused. "And your lightsaber—I saw it, too. Do all Jedi just wander around backwater planets searching for girls like me?"

"I suppose I understand your curiosity on the subject," Kavar said, relenting, "But now is not the time to address your concerns. We will have time to speak later."

"Who is this Master Vrook?"

"Why in space are you asking me this?" Kavar said through gritted teeth. Already, he could see snippets of her old persona beginning to manifest—that was, if the former Sith lord had a stubbornly annoying streak.

"I just want to know," Carina said with a shrug, "since I don't know much else other than I met you five hours ago and I don't even know your name."

"Kavar."

"Kavar?"

"_Master_ Kavar," he corrected her with a raised eyebrow. Carina thought he quickened his pace a little because she was struggling to keep up with him.

"How did you become a master?"

"Why would you want to know that?"

"I am just curious to know a little bit about the man who saved me."

Kavar tried to hide the guilty flush in his cheeks. He had come close to killing her on sight, but his weakness had overpowered him. At some basic level, he still saw her as deserving of a life—even if it meant she was living in denial.

"You don't need to know that," he said curtly, dashing her hopes of him launching into a long tirade about his past exploits on other worlds.

"How did you construct your lightsaber?" Carina asked.

"With my hands."

"Of course," she huffed. "What I meant was how did you find the components to assemble it?"

"I'm sure there are datapads in the Jedi Archives that you may read if you wish to know more about the subject."

Dismayed with his answer, Carina rolled her eyes. Already, her free spirit was beginning to show through. That was the one thing that hadn't been stolen from her when the wall from the Trayus Academy came crumbling down.

Before she could ask another question, Kavar held up his hand to silence her.

"Not another word, or my head might burst."

"It wasn't _that_ many questions," Carina said apologetically.

They stopped in the middle of the hall and entered a small, spartan room that Kavar kept for himself while a guest at the Jedi Temple. For the most part, Vrook would dispatch him to settle border disputes and meet with consular officials on behalf of the Jedi Council. Kavar was well-respected and well-liked even among non-Jedi, and his reputation often preceded him.

"You may wait here," he ordered the inquisitive young woman who followed him timidly into the room.

Her mistrust was apparent on her face as she said, "I'd rather come with you."

"I haven't harmed you in any way, what makes you think I will now?" he asked with a hint of irritation, aware that she suspected something horrible awaited her in the room. Carina merely clenched her teeth and seated herself on the end of the small bed with both knees pressed together.

"Good," Kavar said, on observing her still form. "I will return shortly."

He hoped that shortly would be long enough to keep her legs pinned to the bed, lest he have to endure another incessant barrage of questions.

He walked briskly through the halls of the Jedi Enclave, determined to reproach Master Vrook for his carelessness in assigning him this mission. The master had known full well what a danger the woman was to the fate of the Republic, yet he had sent him out there to—terminate her? No, that was too simple an answer for a man of Vrook's complexity. If what the Jedi Council wanted was to reprogram her with a new identity—one loyal to the Republic—then Kavar certainly was not the prime candidate to do that.

He would make that concern known to the rest of the Jedi when he addressed the Council.

---------------

The large glass dome over the meeting room revealed a beautiful sky. Rani gazed through it, focusing herself before the uncomfortable meeting commenced. The final Czerka representative filed through the door, before it was shut. Rani politely greeted him, before she took her own seat at the head of the table. She took a careful look around, studying the faces in front of her. Some were of her campaign staff, and the rest were employees of the Czerka Corporation.

Rani took a deep breath, she didn't always have the overt charisma that her brother demonstrated, but when she had to, Rani could charm others just as well as Trentyn could.

"Ms. Lorso, I appreciate you and your colleagues interest in my campaign," Rani began in a light voice that masked her dread.

"Thank _you_, Ms. Taraster. We at Czerka are quite interested in you and your platform, and we are here today to ask you to possibly reconsider."

"And what would you like me to reconsider?" Rani asked, her face now serious.

"Your stance on the best way to restore Telos," Jana Lorso answered.

Rani was silent for a few moments, as those from Czerka murmured their acquiescence. Her own staff was silent; they already knew that Rani had strong feelings about that part of her platform.

"I stand by my decision to support the Ithorians leading the Restoration Effort," Rani said, her voice taking on an authoritative edge.

"But, Ms. Taraster, Czerka can do what the Ithorians are doing, but with much less time and money," Jana continued. Czerka had already seen the poll numbers were vastly in Rani Taraster's favor. The public wanted her to be the senator from Telos, and Czerka had to win her over to them if they wanted the Telos contract.

"Yes, but at what expense, Ms. Lorso? I have seen your corporation's proposal, and I honestly don't think that Czerka is capable of healing Telos. Restoring Telos will take time and money, yes, lots of it, but it is worth it. We are talking about healing an entire planet here, not building and selling weapons."

"I can see that you have no intention of reconsidering," Jana Lorso said with an intimidating smirk.

"No, I don't, Ms. Lorso. I just want to do what is best for Telos." Rani replied. It took very little to intimidate her now, after everything that had happened since Telos was bombed.

"Thank you for your time everyone," Rani said, standing up and signaling the end to the meeting.

Rani smiled politely to the Czerka representatives as they left. After speaking with her staff briefly about tomorrow's schedule, Rani finally headed out towards the apartment she shared with Carth.

Right outside of the building that the meeting had just been held in, Rani felt a strong hand grab her arm forcefully.

"If you know what is good for you, Ms. Taraster, I suggest you take Czerka's proposition."

Rani met the eyes of Jana Lorso.

"Are you threatening me?" Rani asked.

"And ruin such a pretty face?" Jana let out a hollow laugh. "Hero of the Republic, Savior of the Galaxy, girlfriend to Admiral Onasi, and hopeful senator from Telos, those are titles that the public knows you by, but I know a few more…would you like to hear them?"

Rani firmly removed Jana's hand from her arm.

"Ex-fiancée of a Sith lord, sister to a Sith Soldier, best friend to a Sith lord…shall I go on?"

"If there is a point, Ms. Lorso, I suggest you get to it," Rani said sighing. Those had all been true… once.

"My point is, if you don't ally yourself with Czerka, the chances of you becoming Senator will become very slim," Jana said sneering.

"Well, then I guess that's just something I'll have to live with. Now, if you'll excuse me." Rani had little patience for dealing with such things, but she had no doubt that Jana was telling the truth. Making enemies with such a large and powerful corporation was not something Rani wanted to do, but she would not sacrifice Telos for her own selfish aims.

Rani left Jana without another word and continued her walk. The silence in the corridor was calming, the ceiling to floor windows revealed small transports whizzing by, and Rani liked to take advantage of whatever clippets of peace she could find. Her stride was brisk, after all, she was looking forward to spending some time with Carth.

Soon, Rani heard hurried footsteps approaching her from behind. Rani turned her head around to see who was in such a hurry and saw a hooded figure wielding a glinting dagger. Rani, now facing her attacker, backed away slowly, waiting for his move. The hooded man lunged at her with the dagger, and Rani danced out of the way. He continued to swing the dagger at her, and several times Rani thought that she was a goner. The would-be assassin didn't seem too skilled, because Rani dodged and weaved out of the way. Her mind seemed shut down, as she let her survival instincts rule her actions. She couldn't see the attacker's face, and she was too busy dodging to scream out. 

Suddenly, someone jumped in between Rani and her attacker, activating a deep blue lightsaber.

"Get the frack away from my sister!" Trentyn roared as he neatly sliced off the attacker's hand that was holding the dagger.

The man started to run away, clutching his stub, before TSF finally showed up and arrested the man.

"I am so sorry about your attack, Ms. Taraster. You are welcome to go home now, I can get your statement later," the lead officer told her.

Rani smiled gratefully, she had already had a trying day and was feeling slightly faint.

Trentyn sensed his sister's condition and placed a supportive arm around her waist as they walked.

"Why don't you have bodyguards or something?" Tren asked.

"I didn't know I needed them…"

"You're too trusting, you may be a well-liked public figure, Rani, but the more you are liked, the more you'll become a target."

"I hate it when you're right," Rani said, leaning heavily on her brother.

"It's great to see you again too," Tren replied.

"I thought you visited me not too long ago," Rani said, trying to remember the last time she'd seen him.

"That was two months ago…"

"I guess you're right, I'm sorry, things have been really busy lately," Rani apologized.

The siblings continued to chat, sharing what they knew of their friends.

Once they made it into the apartment, Carth looked up from a datapad he was studying to glare at Trentyn.

"Nice to see you again, Admiral," Trentyn greeted, as he helped Rani sit down on the couch.

"What happened?" Carth asked, concerned, forgetting for the moment that he had little affection for Tren.

"I was attacked on the way home, and Tren saved me," Rani answered, massaging her head.

Carth sat beside Rani, and took her face into his hands.

"Are you all right, beautiful?"

"I think so…"

"Do you know who it was?" he asked.

"I don't know…TSF has him in custody though."

"I'll have to speak to them later, then," Carth said. He didn't like the situation at all. Rani was the most important person in his life, and the thought of losing her angered him.

"Where was HK?" Trentyn asked his sister, referring to her assassin droid.

Carth stared at Rani, awaiting her answer.

"I…uh…well, he started randomly disappearing, and then one of my opponents inexplicably dropped out of the primaries, and it wasn't hard to figure out what HK was doing in his free time…"

"HK killed him?!" Carth questioned.

"No, but he scared the crap out of him, and I've had him powered down ever since…"

"Well, Sis, you need someone to protect you…"

"When I'm not around," Carth added.

"All right, all right, you guys win, I'll wake up HK," Rani said, throwing her arms in the air.

When the sleeve of her gown uncovered her arm, Carth noticed the blood. He took her arm in his hand, inspecting the wound. It wasn't very long, but it was deep and weeping blood.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," Carth said, throwing on his orange jacket.

"I'll come too," Tren said.

"Why? Do you feel guilty?" Carth asked while he held Rani protectively.

"Guilty?" Tren asked, surprised.

"Captain Mithic reported that you and Atton were the source of the suspicious activity on Coruscant," Carth said, watching Tren's face carefully.

"Carth, I wanted to tell you about the-" Rani began, but was cut off by her brother.

"No, it's all right, Rani. Let the Admiral have his say. This is just like old times… I bet you missed accusing me of acting against the Republic," Tren replied with a stiff smile.

"You knew about your brother's activities, Rani?" Carth asked, paranoia creeping in. Why did she always feel the need to hide things from him?

"Yes, and it may not be completely within the law, but they are helping the Republic," Rani emphasized.

Carth stared down into her wide eyes. It was next to impossible for him to trust anyone, but he completely trusted her.

"All right, gorgeous, we'll talk about this later. For now, let's get you to the hospital," Carth said, before lightly kissing her.

"Aw, man, get a room!" Trentyn complained averting his eyes.

Rani laughed before kissing Carth again.

---------------------

The office was a mess. Patients' charts were sprawled all over the desk, and the floor was littered with papers. Evy wondered if the condition of Dr. Disciple's office matched the condition of his heart. To keep her eyes away from the disturbing mess in front of her, Evy gazed out of the door. Her handsome scoundrel, Atton, kept Igrayne's mind off of Bao-Dur by playing Pazaak with her.

A man walked up to the door to the office, looking at Evy expectantly. Evy would not have recognized Mical, if not for his amazingly blue eyes. Other than that feature, he had changed much. His normally pristine hair appeared to not have been washed in a few days, and several blonde locks fell into his face. Golden stubble decorated his cheeks and chin, and dark circles ringed his eyes. He had the look of a broken man…

Evy's heart wrenched at the sight of the doctor, the man that had loved her friend, Carina, with every part of his being.

"What has the world done to you?" she asked, her hand involuntarily reaching up to his face.

Mical stared back at Evy, his eyes clouding over at the sight of her. Seeing Evy reminded him of the times he had spent with Carina… of how he had failed to save her.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Evy," he replied, ignoring her emotional question.

"You don't have to lie to me, Mical…" she said, placing her hand back to her side.

Mical stared at her for a few moments before inviting her inside of his office and shutting the door.

"Igrayne looks fine, but how is Bao-Dur?" Evy asked, trying to facilitate the conversation.

"He will make a full recovery… he protected Igrayne from the majority of the blast."

Evy nodded, unable to take her eyes off of the changed man in front of her.

"And how is Atton?" Mical questioned, avoiding her concern-filled eyes.

The smile came unbidden to Evy's face. Once and a while she wondered what her life would be like if she were still with the Jedi, but she was comfortable with the decision she made. Atton certainly could be a frustrating man, but she loved him, and he loved her.

"Atton is doing well, thank you," she replied courteously.

"What brings you all to Citadel Station?" he asked.

"Uh…well, it's a long story."

"I see."

The two fell quiet, and in the silence, Evy could see that Mical was using small talk to hide his true emotions.

"Mical, you can talk to me. I almost lost Atton…and I can imagine how you must feel."

Tears sprung to the doctor's eyes, and Evy wrapped her arms around him. She could feel how much weight he'd lost in the past four months. Mical gave into his despair for the moment, resting his head on Evy's shoulder. She comforted him the best she could, running her fingers through his hair. She too felt tears on her cheeks.

"Evy, do you ever think, that maybe Carina's not dead?" Mical asked, his head still buried in her hair.

Evy pulled away slightly, meeting his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes, I can almost feel her through the Force… a whisper…"

Evy had not trained long enough to be able to read the current of the Force very well, but she was certain that her friend was gone.

"Mical, she is gone… we all felt the rip in the Force when she died. And there is no way that she could have survived for four months, buried in rubble of the Trayus Academy."

Mical pulled away from Evy's embrace.

"You are right. I just…I cannot let go, I still love her."

"I know it's hard, Mical, but you must try to accept it. With her dying breath she redeemed herself, and she is now in a better place." Evy spoke gently. Even though she was used to only healing the bodies of others, she still had a desire to help heal their hearts.

"Dr. Disciple, Ms. Taraster has been injured. She is here with Admiral Onasi," a feminine voice called over the intercom in Mical's office.

Evy followed Mical out. Rani, Carth, and Tren had already found Igrayne and Atton, and they were all speaking.

Mical immediately inspected Rani's wound. The two had grown even closer since they moved to Citadel station. Carina had been Rani's best friend, and Mical had been there for Rani at some of her worst moments. It was a relationship built on getting through terrible times with one another.

"You'll be okay. You haven't lost too much blood, and the cut just needs to be stitched up." Mical instructed Rani. "I must go check on Bao, but I will be back."

"I can stitch it," Evy offered.

Mical nodded and left, and Evy took out her supplies. Tren winked at her over his sister's shoulders, and Evy cracked a smile, appreciating his attempt to cheer her up.

"Who knew running for Senate would be so hazardous?" Evy joked while cleaning the wound.

Rani winced, but continued the conversation, "Where are you all staying?"

"I don't know, actually," Evy shrugged.

"Well, you and Atton are more than welcome to stay in my apartment. I already invited Igrayne, and Bao, once he's healed, and of course Tren."

"Are you sure?" Evy asked, beginning the stitching.

Rani relaxed, the anesthetic was working, and she trusted the skills of her friend.

"Of course! We have a few spare bedrooms… one of which needs to be cleaned out," Rani said looking pointedly at Carth, who chuckled softly and ran an embarrassed hand through his hair.

Evy smiled broadly. It was amusing to see Carth's domesticated side.

"Where's Bastila?" Trentyn asked.

"She said she had some business to attend to," Igrayne answered between a hand of Pazaak.

"Did she say when she'll be back?" Tren asked Igrayne.

"No," she answered, considering whether or not to play one of her hand cards.

"The longer the better…" Atton chimed in, before throwing down the rest of his cards in defeat. Evy smiled; Atton rarely didn't cheat, and she found it cute that he was giving Igrayne a chance to win.

"There, all sewed up! You should be fine to do everything, just try not to strain the stitches," Evy said, patting the new bandage on Rani's forearm.

Evy glanced up to Trentyn and noticed the serious look on his face. It was obvious that he was thinking about Bastila. Evy had felt bad for Bastila when Trentyn broke up with her, but at the same time, a part of Evy felt like it had been the right decision. Bastila couldn't give Trentyn the love and companionship that Evy felt he deserved while Bastila was still a part of the Jedi.

----------------

When Kavar entered the Jedi council chamber, he knew he was late, but he had a good excuse: his charge, Carina, was proving more than a handful already, and he had to find creative ways to curb her wanderlust for the time being, until he could keep a watchful eye over her. He hoped the meeting would be short enough that she wouldn't be tempted to find other ways to amuse herself in his absence.

"Please excuse my late arrival, I had business to attend to," Kavar said, purposefully looking for a long time at Master Vrook, who was seated at the head of the circle. The place was familiar to Kavar and so were the people inside who comprised the Jedi Council: Vrook, Vandar, Dorak, Zhar, and Zez-Kai El—whom he'd hardly seen out of retirement since the start of the wars.

"Please be seated, Kavar, there are several urgent matters we must discuss," Vrook said levelly, extending his hand toward the empty chair that sat under the late afternoon glow of one of the windows. Kavar eased himself into the seat, clutching the armrests as he surveyed the sea of faces that surrounded him.

"…I have elected for Master Zhar to take reinforcements to Telos to aid in the restoration project. We are sending along several padawans, as well as their masters."

Kavar stood wearily, too anxious to wait his turn to speak. Vrook raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Kavar? You wish to address the council?"

He nodded sharply.

"What is it you wish to say?"

"My mission was a success," Kavar enunciated, surveying the Jedi masters' faces for deception. He wondered if they had all known of Carina's existence, or it was just Vrook. With all the events of the past day slowly starting to sink in, Kavar grew almost doubtful of his Force abilities. Though he was a master, he had not once been able to sense one of the greatest threats ever to plague the Jedi Order. He should have _felt_ something…

"I returned to Malachor and to the Trayus Academy, and I uncovered a young woman—lying buried under a mound of rubble."

"Innocent sentient?" Zez-Kai El replied, looking mildly bored.

Kavar paused a moment for emphasis.

"No. The woman's identity is no secret to you all. The woman I found is the former Sith lord, Carina." A pause of silence filled the room. "She is not dead, as we had previously been led to believe."

His gaze settled meaningfully on Vrook.

"It is good you understand this," Vrook said, "It means you know what you must do with her."

"If killing her was what you wanted, I would have done it, but I could sense it was not. You had some other designs in mind for her," Kavar said, his voice calm and collected though his insides didn't necessarily reflect it.

"Yes, she lives. I can sense no deception from you," Vrook said, meditating the thought, "and you brought her here, to the temple…"

A buzz of excitement ignited in the room, and Vrook had to struggle to make his voice heard in the ensuing ruckus.

"Be silent! This is a matter that must be addressed with all expediency."

Kavar stood to address the charges.

"Yes, I brought her here. I thought that was what you wanted, Master Vrook. She remembers nothing of her old life. It is as though the slate has been wiped clean."

"That means nothing," Zez-Kai El roared grumpily. "Who's to say bits and pieces of her memory won't return to her?"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Kavar said, then turning to Vrook, "but _I'm sure_ Master Vrook would not have sanctioned such a course of action if he weren't fully aware of the consequences. Perhaps he sought to have me bring her here so she could be reprogrammed with a new identity—one loyal to the Jedi and to the Republic. It won't work, though. It never does. A kath hound can't change its spots.

"Stand down, Kavar," Vrook said angrily.

"I will not, Master. My concerns must be voiced, for they are the concerns of us all."

It was with great resignation that Vrook said, "Very well."

"Then let us begin by deciding her fate. We have one of two options. We either permit her to stay and begin training her in the ways of the Jedi—with a watchful eye on her at all times—or we subject her to the mercy of the Galactic Senate, after which her case will be delivered to the local courts and be tried by a jury of her peers."

Zez-Kai El snorted.

"Hardly seems fitting enough for what _she's_ done. I say we terminate her now, quietly, while we have a chance. We don't want to risk the wrath of the Senate. What if they uncover our deception? What then? The Order will be reduced to the laughingstock—no, the _scourge_—of the galaxy."

Vrook closed his eyes, trying to find a level center amid all the discordant voices. It was hard to get a hold on the Force when his grip was so slippery and distracted. He needed to decide the best course of action now, before things progressed further.

"For now, we will take recess. When we come back, we will fully debate and discuss which course of action we will take. We will call her before us and pronounce our judgment upon her once it is made," Vrook said. "She has war crimes to answer for—she has the galaxy to answer for. There are many who would feel justice was better served if she was sentenced in the courts."

"But that's not the reason you sent me on this mission, master, is it?"

Vrook's eyes glazed over and were, for a moment, unreadable.

"Send for the girl."

"Do we really want to do that?" Dorak asked timidly. "If her mind is already cleansed free of the Sith taint, there is no point in reintroducing it to her.

"And tell her _nothing_?" Kavar asked, sounding worried that he would have to keep up this charade of pretending not to know for longer than he liked. "You're suggesting that we just welcome a Sith lord into our halls and ask that she embrace our teachings?"

"It is not the first time such a thing has been done," Vrook added cryptically.

"Then it is as I feared," Kavar said, glaring at the respective faces of the Jedi masters. "The Jedi Code is truly dead."

They adjourned for a short time to collect their thoughts. When Kavar exited the council chamber, she was already waiting for him in the nearby Room of a Thousand Fountains. He couldn't be sure if she was actually waiting for him, though, or if her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

The Room of a Thousand Fountains composed about a quarter of the temple and was filled with waterfalls and generous amounts of flora, including Hylaian marsh bamboo. Used as a healing spot for wounded Jedi, the room also boasted tons of meditative areas, stone walkways, and pottery. And, of course, there were the fountains.

Carina had her hand under the crystal clear waters of one of the fountains, seemingly unaware of Kavar's entrance. She was lapping up the water, letting it pool between her fingers and drip through the crevices in her hands. She seemed so fascinated by it that she didn't notice Kavar clear his throat loudly behind her.

"I thought I told you to stay in the room," he said, his voice jarring her from her reverie. She looked over her shoulder at him. Surely her Jedi senses must have told her he was there? Perhaps that, like the memory of her old life, had also been stolen from her.

_Not likely…_ Kavar told himself.

"Yeah, well, as exciting as a room with four white walls is, I thought I'd do a little exploring."

"Is that so?"

"You don't have a problem with it, do you, master?" she said, assuming an innocent tone of voice. Kavar could see behind her deception quite easily.

"Yes, in fact, I do. Return to your room immediately. I don't want to see your face again until dinner."

Carina scowled, but said nothing, merely stormed from the room in a fit of anger. Kavar tried not to be intrigued as she passed. She was as moody as she was annoying. He found that trying to relate to her from a position of authority, as a teacher, was not working—she didn't like being infantilized, and he didn't like having to resort to chastising her as a way of motivating her to do the things he wanted. He'd have to find another approach.

The council convened again shortly after lunch. When Kavar entered, this time, an aura of serenity engulfed the room, replacing the discord that lingered there from the first meeting. All the Jedi seemed to be in accordance on one point—and Kavar was afraid to learn what that one point was.

"The Council has heard your request, Kavar, but now I ask you what you would do with her."

"Master?"

"The girl," Vrook explained, gazing out the window that overlooked Coruscant's busy market sector. "If you are not capable of terminating her and you don't want her to live out a life here in the Jedi Temple, then what would you recommend?"

Vrook was nonplused as he said this, but Kavar was confused as to why he was being called upon to lend his opinion.

"If I said that returning her to Malachor would be the best course of action in a case of this kind, you would surely refute me."

"Yes."

"Then I can simply respond by saying that I don't know."

Vrook addressed the full circle now, both arms upraised.

"While we were at recess, I spoke a little with Master Vandar. We both agreed on a course of action I think will suit the girl. She will stay here and enter the temple as a padawan under Master Kavar's tutelage. Kavar currently has no padawan."

"What?" Kavar said, nearly toppling over as news of this sank in.

"Your decision to bring her here instead of terminating her is what sealed your fate," Vrook said. "Had you followed your teaching, you would have known what a danger she was to us all. By introducing her to the temple, you have narrowed her into a position. She can't be allowed to leave after what she has seen. By keeping a watchful eye over her, we can be sure her training will progress without any…_unseen_ abnormalities. And, if we're lucky, the Senate won't be any the wiser for it…"

"She's a free-spirited girl," Kavar said, his teeth clenched, "she won't allow herself to be confined behind these walls for long. It is as it was before."

"Stay in confinement, she must. Lucky she is to have you to remind her of that fact, Kavar," Vandar said resolutely.

"You may begin your teaching tonight, if you wish," Vrook said.

As soon as he realized the meeting was being adjourned for a second time, Kavar stooped low in a bow, anger welling up inside his breast. He slowly recited the words of the Jedi Code to bring his focus back to the moment.

"Yes, masters." He looked up at them. Disdain was apparent in his voice as he said, "_Thank you_ for this assignment."

_He's planned this all from the start_, Kavar thought. _Oh, yes, it's all worked out perfectly to his liking. He sent me specifically because he knew I would not kill the girl. In doing that, I secured his plans. Training her was what he wanted all along._ He tried to veil the thought as best he could. Master Vrook either didn't hear it or chose to ignore it.


	3. Side Quest

Indy spent the remaining time before her departure to Telos trying to fix several malfunctioning modulators near the port side of her ship. They continued buzzing and Indy was getting fed up with that stupid sound. In fact, she was fed up with how she kept having to fix this bucket of bolts. Not to mention the fact that Han was relaxing in the cockpit, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary.

Indy swore loudly as she jammed her finger in one of the flaps on the pesky modulator. If this ship wasn't up and flying within the hour, she was going to lose it. And Han was going to be the recipient of her pent-up anger. She could hear the smuggler humming to himself from the cockpit, and if that wasn't irritable enough, he had the gall to continue shouting back to her, asking if she'd "fixed this flying death trap yet."

"Stupid modulator...stupid ship...stupid Han..." Indy muttered as she adjusted the last modulator into place. The buzzing from it remained, but at least it should work properly now, though she wasn't sure if it would or not.

She was willing to try, however, because the sooner they were flying, the sooner she could ditch the annoying and frustrating smuggler on Telos. Of course she felt guilty for thinking such thoughts about Han...but then again, he was the one who had abandoned her. It had not been her the one to leave him right before a dangerous battle. He would have been extremely helpful to keep around.

Now Indy was in a foul mood, mainly because of Han. He was the only one, aside from real jerks and Sith lords, who could get under her skin. She hated the fact that he was able to do so, but she was unable to resist taking the bait he constantly threw at her. Indy had always been competitive, and Han had always presented her with challenges. She loved and hated that.

"Took you long enough," Han said as Indy stomped into the cockpit.

"Move," she ordered.

Han was taken aback by the ferocity of which she'd uttered that single word. "Sure thing...no need to get testy about it."

Han could have swore she said something cruel under her breath, but he knew better than to comment on it. Indy had changed, and not for the better. He blamed himself for it. If he had been able to protect her from using those books, then maybe she would be the same Indy, instead of the one who was constantly at odds with him.

Indy fired up the ship, smiling briefly when she noticed the modulator was working properly. She glanced once at the smuggler beside her, more out of habit than anything else, and noticed the intense gaze he was giving her. She really hated when he did that. As long as she'd known Han, he'd done that intense gaze whenever words failed him...and that's what she feared at the moment. The reason why words were failing him.

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped quietly, preparing the ship for hyperspace.

"Like what?" he queried.

Indy looked to him, and his eyes were now focused on the navigational map in front of the co-pilot's seat. "Never mind."

"Something botherin' you?" Han asked, eager to start up some conversation.

"No."

"Are you sure?" Han tried again. He needed to just speak with her. Maybe then he could explain everything that was happening, maybe even explain how he felt.

"Yes."

"Can you say more than one word?" He asked jokingly.

"Shut up."

"Oh, two. Impressive," Han teased, leaning back in his seat and placing his hands behind his head, and then stretched. "Come on, Indy, if we're going to be traveling together than you can't ignore me forever."

Indy snorted. "You obviously don't know me as well as you thought. Eh, _smuggler_?"

Han sighed inwardly. He could see she was going to be difficult about this, so he needed to change tactics. If he knew Indy as well as he figured he did, she'd eventually forgive him and come around.

"Well?" Indy's voice broke into his thoughts.

"What?"

"You were staring again."

"Oh."

Indy was the one who sighed aloud this time. "Fine, Han, let's get it out in the open since it's bothering you."

Her tone said she could care less about whatever it was he wanted to talk about. Han scratched his head, trying to decipher the best course of action to deal with the stubborn woman. Han was a man who could fly the Kessel run in under twelve parsecs, yet couldn't speak to a woman without having said woman bite his head off. It was really pathetic, and it was driving Han nuts.

"Eh, forget it. It's not important," Han said evasively.

"Then why is it bothering you?"

"What?"

"Whatever you want to talk about," Indy said, clearly exasperated.

"It's not."

"Not what?"

"Bothering me," Han answered. "It's not like you'd care anyway, even if it was a big deal."

Now Indy's curiosity was piqued. "What's a big deal?"

Han grinned inwardly, but covered his bemusement with a yawn and turned away from Indy in his seat. "Oh, nothing."

Indy was going to kill him. She swore she was going to kill the handsome devil. _Whoa! Handsome devil? Force, Indy, pull yourself together!_ Indy reprimanded herself silently.

"Fine," she consented, turning her attention back to piloting, which was really not necessary since they'd entered hyperspace.

Han cursed silently. She was learning his tricks and using his own techniques against him. He should have known better than to try and attempt to trick Indy. She was too smart for her own good sometimes. _Most of the time,_ Han thought.

Han couldn't stand the silence for long, however, and he was not about to retreat to the starboard dormitories.

"Indy, we need to talk—and I know what you're going to say, but this is more important than either of us. I know you're upset about me leaving, but once I explain to you why I did it, you'll forgive me, I'm sure."

"You place a lot of faith in yourself," Indy said.

Han ignored the intentional taunt. "The Sith aren't dead, Indy."

"Course they are."

Han shook his head. "This Sith threat…I've been investigating it. These Sith are different, Indy. I'm not even sure where they're attacking from, who's running them, what they're doing, but it's not good. They've adapted to this time and age. They're smarter, and they aren't going to use the same methods the previous Sith lords have. They're—they seem more subtle. Hell, I'm not even sure _what_ they are or what they're planning."

Indy remained silent, listening intently to what he was saying. If he was right, then this was larger than her personal feelings against the scoundrel, and she'd have to hear him out.

Han sighed and scratched his head, trying to recall everything he remembered. "The person who hired me, I believe he is part of the Czerka personnel on Telos. He wanted me to get that artifact you have, Indy. Apparently, from what I've gathered about it, it's a powerful Sith holocron. And in the right hands, it could unleash deadly knowledge."

"A holocron?" Indy said, in shock. She should have known. It explained a lot about why she always felt so _dark_ around it.

"I knew I wasn't the only one he was hiring for this job, and that's why I sought you out. I figured you were on Corellia, but when you weren't…" His voice trailed off, letting his unspoken concerns remain silent. "It was by pure luck that I found you in that alleyway."

"Yeah," Indy scoffed. "Luck."

Han looked intently at her before continuing. "If the Sith are now dealing with Czerka, who knows who else they're dealing with? I'd bet my credits that they're also working with the Exchange."

"Who isn't these days?" Indy replied, looking pointedly at Han.

"Indy, you know I'd never betray you—"

"Really, now? What do you call deserting me and our friends before a massive battle, then?" she snapped.

"There were extenuating circumstances," Han said softly, trying not to anger her. He was slowly losing his patience.

"Yeah, aren't there always?"

That was the final straw. Han was going to put this woman in her place, so help him...

"Indy, shut up. Just shut it! You know I care about you, and I don't care if you deny it or not, but that's not going to change. You're in danger, and I _will_ protect you. Now, if you can't get over your little grudge that you have against me, then so be it. But you're stuck with me, kid, and that's that," Han finished in a tone that dared her to argue with him. Unfortunately, Indy felt like arguing. Neither of them knew it, but they were both happiest when bickering with one another.

"I wouldn't hold a grudge if you didn't—"

"Abandon you? Indy, I lured the Sith away from Dantooine for a time!" Han nearly yelled.

Immediate silence followed. Indy felt her throat constricting, and her heart tightened as well. All the mean thoughts she'd thought about Han were all for nothing? He really hadn't betrayed her? It was too much information for her to digest.

"You lured the Sith away? Oh, frack," Indy mumbled, rubbing her forehead furiously.

"Yeah, they thought I was evacuating the Jedi away from the planet, and I lead them to believe I was, which halted their pursuit towards Dantooine for a time," Han explained. "I figured I might make something of my life, huh?"

Indy looked away to hide her guilty expression. Now she had no real excuse to hide from him, to hide her _feelings_ for him.

"Han, I'm—" She bit her lip, unable to apologize.

"Yeah, I know, kid," was Han's simple response.

-----------------------

Mical was resting his head on the desk when the door slid open. His head immediately shot up, and he wiped at his eyes. He hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep since, well, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd gotten any sleep. When he did sleep, it was full of nightmares and painful memories, and he would have rather not relive some of those moments.

"Dr. Disciple?" The assistant began softly, looking into the dimly lit room.

"Yes?" He responded, gaining his composure back almost immediately.

"Your second patient, the Zabrak, has awoken. Should we give him another dose of the sedative—?"

Mical shook his head. "No, that won't be necessary."

"But, Doctor—"

"The Zabrak is a good friend of mine as well; he's also a Jedi Knight. Jedi heal more quickly, and if we can avoid giving him more drugs, the better it will be for his immune system," Mical explained. "I'll go speak with him."

"Yes, Doctor," the assistant consented and left without another word.

Mical sighed to himself and slumped back in his chair for a moment before gathering himself together and standing. He immediately headed to Bao-Dur's room, prepared to speak with the Zabrak to make sure he was correct in his assumption that he would heal more quickly. Zabraks weren't known to have very strong immune systems because they rarely needed to use them. Many of the diseases in the galaxy didn't affect them, but manmade drugs could permanently damage Bao's immune system.

The door slid open as he approached it, and Bao-Dur's eyes slowly looked to him. Pain was evident in his expression, but he managed a smile. Mical smiled back at his friend.

"Good to see you again, Bao," Mical began, looking at some charts beside his bed.

"Good to see you too, Mical," Bao replied, repressing a moan as he moved to face Mical. The blonde doctor looked terrible, but Bao refrained from commenting on it. He figured it was due to Carina, and he didn't feel the need to bring it up. "A doctor again? Just like old times."

Mical simply nodded. "Yes, I really had nothing better to do after...well, after the Battle of Dantooine."

"You left the Jedi," Bao said more as a statement than question.

"Yes."

"Why?" Bao queried, though softly as he was not eager to pressure the young man.

Mical hesitated in his answer. "They held no truth for me anymore."

Bao knew that was not the only reason but also did not comment on that either. He sensed the Force still within the man, but it was faint, as if he was purposely turning away from it, trying his best to blind himself from it.

"I see," he said simply. "Well, if you ever change your mind—"

"I won't," he almost snapped in an uncharacteristic tone of voice. "You should probably be resting."

Bao agreed, and leaned back against his pillow. That was when he remembered Igrayne. Suddenly, fear enveloped him. Was she all right? Did she survive the blast? Was she wounded...or worse?

"Mical, have you seen Igrayne?" he asked, his voice sounding constricted.

Mical nodded, then gave him a reassuring smile. "She's fine, and almost perfectly healthy with the exception of a few cuts and bruises. You shielded her from the majority of the blast, and she managed to protect herself using the Force, or so she's told me."

The Zabrak was relieved. "May I see her?"

"Certainly, but she will have to come here...because you won't be up and about for a few more days, I fear," Mical informed, then he pushed the comm button and summoned Igrayne to the room shortly after.

She burst in, and her eyes were full of unshed tears of happiness and relief. She nearly tackled the injured Zabrak, and he groaned as she hugged him. Igrayne, however, quickly regained her composure, silently remembering the Jedi Code. She could see the love in Bao-Dur's eyes, and that was good enough for her. He was alive, and that was all that mattered.

"If you'll excuse me..." Mical said, quickly dismissing himself.

Once the door was closed, Igrayne leaned down and kissed the Zabrak softly on the lips.

"Don't you ever do that again!" she scolded. "You had me scared to death!"

"My apologies. I will try to avoid getting hit by an explosion next time, General," he said, cracking a smile.

Igrayne grinned. "See that you do. Force, I'm glad you're okay. For a while there they weren't sure if you were going to make it."

"Fortunately, I did," Bao-Dur said simply, as if escaping death's shadow was an easy feat.

"Thanks to Mical. And by the looks of it, he's lost a night's sleep over making sure you lived," Igrayne commented.

Bao shook his head. "I doubt I was the only reason."

"Pray tell, my cryptic Zabrak, what you mean by that," Igrayne replied, raising an eyebrow.

"You know he left the Jedi," Bao began, and Igrayne nodded. "But that's not the only thing he has done, Igrayne. He is turning away from the Force entirely."

Igrayne frowned. "I suspected as much."

"He is in pain, and I sympathize with him. But I fear he's on a self-destructive path," Bao said philosophically.

Igrayne had noticed the same thing. Mical had changed considerably since she'd first met him. He had had brilliant blue eyes, but they were now a hazy shade of bluish gray. He constantly had sleep-ridden eyelids, and he didn't look as youthful as he once did. She really wished she could help, but she knew there was no way she could.

"Do you have a suggestion as to how we could possibly help?" To Bao's shake of the head, Igrayne frowned. "I didn't think so."

Bao's coarse hand covered Igrayne's delicate one in a tender action. She smiled at him, and he smiled back at her. For all of the Jedi's warnings about falling in love, at the moment, Igrayne couldn't recall a single one of them.

---------------------

Her arm was thrown over his bare chest, and the bandage on her arm tickled him slightly. The lights of the city came through the window of their bedroom, and Carth could still see the slight sheen on Rani's bare back, evidence of their earlier efforts. His hand involuntarily reached for her, and he brushed a few curls out of her face, exposing her still flushed cheeks. He watched Rani as she slept; that was when she looked the most peaceful.

The love they had shared that night was gentle, but insistent. For the time, Carth had been so taken with being with Rani that his anger had subsided. But now, watching her, she looked so innocent, that his fury over someone daring to hurt her returned. He was not able to sleep.

Carth gently adjusted Rani's form. She was a light sleeper, so she awoke momentarily, opening her eyes for a second and kissing him lightly before snuggling down to sleep again. He smiled, touched for a moment, but became even more enraged. He would never let anyone take Rani from him. Morgana had died right in his arms, and he would do everything in his power to protect Rani.

He quietly dressed himself in the clothes on the floor at the end of the bed, where he had discarded them earlier in his haste to be close to Rani. Once he snuck out of the room, he was surprised to see Trentyn standing in the sitting room, staring out the huge window that covered the entire wall.

"What are you doing out of your room?" Carth asked. Rani had invited Tren, Evy, Atton, Igrayne, and Bao. Evy and Atton were sleeping in one of the spare rooms, and Tren had also gotten his own room. Bao-Dur still wasn't healed enough to leave the hospital, and Igrayne elected to stay to be near him.

"I could ask you the same," Tren retorted.

"I couldn't sleep," Carth answered, too mentally exhausted to verbally spar with Rani's overconfident brother.

"Why not?"

"Because someone tried to kill Rani, that's why!" Carth said, raising his voice.

"Whoa, whoa, no need to get angry," Tren replied, trying to use a soothing tone.

"How the hell am I supposed to feel? Aren't you angry? Someone tried to murder your sister!"

"Yes, I am angry. I cut the guy's hand off. I was so pissed off! But why be angry now? The guy is behind bars."

"I just have this feeling like something bigger is going on…"

"I'm sure you do, you're paranoid like that," Tren answered, shrugging.

Carth gave Trentyn a sharp look before an idea came to him.

"I'm going to see what the Telos Security Force has found out about her attacker," Carth told Tren.

"I'm coming with you," Tren replied, giving Carth a determined smile.

Carth froze for a moment, struck by the family resemblance between Trentyn and Rani. Tren was different enough that Carth didn't see it all of the time, but once and a while, the resemblance would be so striking, that it would catch him off guard. Maybe it was because of this that the Admiral allowed Tren to go with him.

They took a shuttle to the section of Citadel Station that housed the headquarters of the TSF.

"Are you ever going to tell me what suspicious activity you and Atton were participating in on Coruscant?" Carth asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"Admiral, Rani would have told you sooner, but she didn't want to put you in a difficult situation."

"Are you doing something illegal? Against the Republic?"

"Yes and no."

"Trentyn, you are Rani's brother, so I will try to be understanding if just for her sake. But if you are doing something that can put the Republic in jeopardy, I can't allow it to go on."

Tren stared at the Republic admiral before finally deciding that he would probably end up having to tell Carth eventually anyway.

"Essentially, Atton and I have created a safe house for ex-Sith soldiers. Those who have turned their backs on the Sith have no where to go. The Sith want to hunt them down and punish them for defecting, and the Republic wants to try them for war crimes. We give them a chance at a normal life, a life free of the scrutiny of both."

"Is that all?" Carth asked. He didn't like the prospect of Sith getting away from some of the atrocities they committed, but he did understand that the Sith soldiers were punished severely if they did not follow orders, no matter how immoral the orders might have been.

"No, we give these ex-Sith jobs as soldiers for our vigilante force. We do what the Republic needs to do, but can't…either because there is too much bureaucracy, or because there is some law that forbids them. We still do what is best for the Republic."

"But who is there to moderate them?" Carth asked, secretly impressed by the idea and at the same time worried by it.

"That's the beauty of it, my ol' Admiral, we do what the Republic is kept from doing," Tren explained with a mischievous glint in his eye.

The two men made it to the Telos Security Force headquarters. The watchman recognized the Admiral immediately and rushed up to him.

"Admiral Onasi, what brings you here at this late hour?" the man asked in a polite voice.

"I am here to find out who the man was that attacked Ms. Taraster," Carth said.

The watchman looked slightly stricken. "I'm sorry, Admiral, but we've had a bit of a problem with him."

"Did he escape?" Tren asked, his eyes already flashing with anger.

"Uh, no. He's dead."

When Carth and Trentyn spoke with the head of the TSF, the man apologized profusely.

"Admiral, we are quite baffled, we cannot figure out how he killed himself. It was by a blaster shot, though no one heard a shot, and there was no blaster near the man's body."

"So, how are you even certain that he killed himself?" Carth asked.

"We…we aren't, Sir…"

Carth finally got in to see the dead body of the man who attacked Rani. The man's hair was dark, and his eyes were dark, too. There were no distinguishing features about him, and to Carth, he looked like many other men who traveled the galaxy.

"Is there anything you were able to find out about him before his death?" Tren asked.

"He did have a clearance card to land on Citadel Station. We used the card to see what ship he came in on. Turns out he came from Tatooine. Other than that, we know nothing about the man."

The session had left the admiral even angrier than he was before. All he had was a location, and now he was even more certain, with the suspicious circumstances of the attacker's death, that Rani was in more danger than she thought.

Carth used the holophone there, calling Mithic and waking him.

----------------------------

Carth and Rani's apartment had a comfortable, settled feeling that Evy loved. There was something about them, establishing a home and a life together that appealed to Evy. Admiral Onasi had never really seemed like the type of guy that would be able to step away from his soldier life, but after the Battle of Dantooine, he had asked to be assigned to leading the Republic's effort to restore Telos. It was mostly a job of management and paperwork, a far cry from his normal commander roles leading fleets and working on battle tactics. But he had done it for Rani, to build a life with her, while they both built up their home world.

Evy thought about this as she lay in the bed she shared with Atton. His snoring was getting louder, and she normally was able to ignore it and sleep, but something nagged at her mind. She turned towards Atton, who, as usual, had his arms encircling her as he slept. She touched his face softly, feeling a tiny bit of stubble. He did not stir, and the volume of his snoring increased.

"Atton," Evy said softly, moving her hand down to his bicep, squeezing it lightly.

Still, he did not wake up. Finally, getting irritated at his ability to sleep like a log, she poked him hard in the ribs.

"Huh? What, Sweets?" he said, rubbing his eyes.

"Atton, why aren't we like Carth and Rani?" she asked, holding back her true question.

He laid his head back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling.

"Because, sweets, I'm not an emotional Admiral and you're not a prissy, Senator wanna-be."

"Atton! They are our friends!" Evy said, trying to sound serious, but laughter came anyway.

"I was just answering your question…"

"You know what I meant, Atton," she said, now very serious.

"Do I have to be a mind-reader? Just ask me, sweets… it's late…"

"Atton, why aren't we _settled_?" Evy asked.

"Do you want to be settled? And what does that even mean, anyway?"

Evy sat up, she could already tell that this would turn out to be a long ordeal.

"You know what that means, Atton Rand. I left that life so that I could be with you, and now I feel like we barely get to be together."

"We are together right now…" Atton replied with a devilish grin.

"Oh no, you aren't getting out of this, scoundrel. Tell me, will we ever settle down?"

Atton sighed, sitting up also. "Evy, I love you. Isn't that enough?"

Evy opened her mouth, but then shut it again, letting his words sink in. Yes, it should be enough.

"I guess you are right… I'm sorry, let's just go back to sleep," Evy said, realizing that Atton had a point.

"Sleep? Are you kidding? You already woke me up, babe. And all this talk of being together…"

Evy turned to Atton, meeting his dark eyes. He looked so sexy, with the slight glow coming from the window.

He didn't give her a chance to answer, immediately wrapping his arm around her waist and jerking her body towards him. He covered her lips with his own demanding ones. She let her body relax against his, feeling his insistent tongue stroke her own. It had not been that long since they had last made love, but Atton was often busy with his and Trentyn's organization, and sometimes Evy had worked long shifts at the hospital on Coruscant.

He ravaged her mouth for quite some time, letting his tongue take his fill of her mouth. His hands also traveled, moving under her thin nightgown. His fingers traced her taut stomach, swirling around her navel, before traveling upward. She began to moan as he touched her, so soft at times that she trembled, and hard at other times so that it was almost painful, but was so pleasurable that she gripped his thighs.

Her excitement was growing too great. Evy moved her hands, but before she could feel to check for his readiness, he pulled her arms away. Atton gripped both of her slender wrists in one of his large hands, with the other one, he copied her earlier action, tracing his palm up her thigh until he reached her panties. He deftly pulled them off of her, tossing them to the side. Her legs shook uncontrollably as his hand worked. Not able to take it any more, she pulled her lips away from his delectable mouth.

"Atton, just take me already!" Evy demanded, her voice deep with desire.

Atton's eyes locked on her pale green ones, which looked darker in the dim light and with the overwhelming need she felt for him. He released her wrists from his grasp, and he got off the bed. She stared at his slim and toned frame as he removed his only article of clothing, his boxers. Evy's eyes traveled down his washboard abs to the muscle ridges right below his hip bones, and on down. He was definitely ready for her.

He walked around to her side of the bed, roughly pulling her up towards him. His hands immediately found the hem of her nightgown, and he pulled it over her head in one practiced move. His eyes stayed locked on hers as he picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, as he walked to the wall. He rested her back against the wall, and then adjusted his arms so that the back of her knees rested in the crook of his elbow.

Evy's breath caught in her throat as he stared into her eyes, delaying their meeting for a few moments. The coolness of the wall at her back contrasted with the sweaty warmth of Atton's hands gripping her rounded behind. Her breaths came in short, shallow bursts as her loins burned with a seemingly unquenchable fire for Atton's love.

In one smooth, sudden movement, Atton thrust himself into her. She emitted a loud groan, and Atton trembled slightly, as he paused, enjoying the feeling of her. His hands gripped her even tighter, as he moved. Evy gripped Atton's shoulders, then wrapped them around his neck. He met her mouth, as he increased his tempo. Evy mirrored his movements, Atton's arms guiding her. Finally, she nipped Atton's earlobe to signal to him that she was almost there. He crashed into her now, and she threw her head back, and pleasured yells poured from her mouth. Atton's body stiffened as he too found his release.

Evy and Atton spent a few moments recovering after the intense meeting. He still held her against the wall, her legs slung over his arms, and he kissed her lightly as his body slightly trembled along with hers. Finally, he pulled her away from the wall and laid her back down on the bed they shared. Atton amazed her with the way he could suddenly change gears. One moment he was giving her the ride of her life, and the next moment, he was the gentlest he'd ever been with her.

He joined her in bed, pulling the light sheets up around their naked bodies. Evy sighed deeply and snuggled against Atton.

"How's that for settled in?" Atton asked with a cocky tone.

Evy pulled away, staring at him in disbelief. After the intimate moment they just shared, how could he joke about her desire to be a larger part of his life?

She sat up, tugging her nightgown back on and taking her pillow with her. She stamped out the door, settling on the couch. Atton followed her, almost falling as he tugged his boxers back on.

"Sweets! Come on, I was joking!"

"I was serious about that stuff, Atton! Can't you ever be serious?"

"Listen, babe, I know what you want, but you know, it's just…"

"You think we still have too much we need to do for the Galaxy before we can settle?" Evy offered.

"Uh, yeah, that's right, sweets. That's what I was going to say."

Evy saw the look on his face, and knew that her offered explanation was not what he had been thinking.

"Rand! What were you going to say?"

"Come on, Evy…"

"Atton…" she said in a warning tone.

"All right, all right! What is it with women and wanting to know everything a man is thinking? Don't you realize that it's probably better that you can't read every thought that enters my mind?"

"This is important to me… I never would have just given myself to you if I wasn't sure that I was completely in love with you and wanted to start a family with you someday."

Atton swallowed so loudly that it was audible. "Start a family?"

"Well, I mean, that's a long ways away. Of course, many things have to come first, like marriage," Evy quickly said, trying not to freak Atton out. It was the wrong thing to say.

"Now, we're talking about marriage? I thought this was just about getting a place together and seeing each other more often… Carth and Rani aren't even married!" Atton cried, his voice getting higher with each word.

"Atton, why are you getting so panicky? I don't want to get married tomorrow or something!"

"But you do want to get married?!"

"Of course! What woman doesn't want to marry the man she loves?! Of course I want to marry you some day!" Evy was getting increasing frustrated. Why did he have to get so freaked out at just the mention of marriage?

"I'm not the marrying type!" Atton blurted, his eyes bugged out of his head in fear.

"Now, what the hell does that mean?" Evy asked, standing and staring down at Atton.

"You fell in love with me, Evy, and I'm not going to change who I am," he said, looking quite satisfied with his declaration.

Evy's chin trembled slightly. It's not that she wanted him to change who he was, but she'd just assumed that any man who was in love as much as Atton was with her, would want to make the woman of his dreams his wife.

She grabbed the pillow again, and stormed back into the bedroom, closing the door behind it. She locked the door and left Atton out in the common area of the apartment.

Only a couple minutes later, Atton came tapping on the door.

"Come on, sweets. This is nothing to fight over. Just let me in."

Evy buried her head in the pillows trying to block his voice out as she struggled to sleep.

Soon, Carth and Tren came back and were surprised, and even a bit amused, to find Atton stranded on the couch in his underwear.

"Evy kicked you out?" Tren asked, looking like he was having a bit too much fun at his friend's expense.

"It's all because of the admiral and Rani," Atton spit out, trying to lay the blame elsewhere.

"How is that?" Carth asked, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a smile.

"After seeing your cohabiting _bliss_, she wants to get married!"

Carth chuckled slightly before joining Rani in their bedroom. He would be able to sleep now. Captain John Mithic had agreed to leave right away to figure out what he could about who the now dead attacker worked for on Tatooine.

"Let's go, man. You can crash in my room," Tren offered.

"Hey, I'm not Mithic, I don't like being in dark rooms with you," Atton retorted, still sore about his argument with Evy.

------------------------

"Mithic? This is Admiral Onasi," Carth said into the holophone.

"Yeah, it's me. This better be good, Carth, that was the most sleep I've gotten in days!" Mithic replied, frustrated.

"Sorry, Captain, but I have a mission for you. Rani's attacker has mysteriously perished, and TSF tracked his ship to Tatooine. I want you to go there and see what you can find. Anchorhead would be a good place to start," Carth replied.

"All right, I'll take the _Sunbeam_ there in the morning. I'll go alone."

"Thanks, Captain."

Mithic went back to sleep and then awoke in the morning. He made his way to the bridge of the ship and went into orbit. Just as he was putting Tatooine's hyperspace coordinates into the navicomputer, he felt the ship rumble, just as if it had been hit.

"Take the controls; I'm taking _Moonlight_ out for a spin!" Mithic yelled to his droid, R9-T87, as the ship took another hit.

Out in space in his starfighter, Mithic found out what had been attacking the ship. A modified Telosian orbital shuttle bearing weaponry and a stealth paint job was on the offensive. Mithic would never have seen the ship had it not been firing and borne a strange insignia upon it. Concentrating on the Force, Mithic was able to guide his starfighter away from the shuttle. He then sensed life forms on the ship. Maybe it was a Force-sensitive. Sure enough, the attacker was as attuned to the Force as Mithic was. _Maybe I should try to talk to him_, thought Mithic. Through the Force, Mithic said to the pilot of the shuttle, "Why are you attacking me?"

"I was sent to do so. I've been trailing you for a long time, John," replied his mysterious assailant.

"How do you know my name?"

"Obviously I learned it while tracking you! I was told you were an intelligent man, John."

"Well, if you know me so well, you know I am fully capable of destroying your ship with just my starfighter. Is this why you insult me? Do you have a death wish?"

"I am more than willing to die for my master."

"And who might that be?"

"And why should I tell you?"

"If not, you will die," Mithic said while adjusting his ship's weaponry to maximum firepower and targeting the shuttle's engine. "Why not give up? Maybe you can be of use to me."

"I will never betray my master!"

The shuttle then shot at the bridge of the _Sunbeam_. Mithic shot twice at the shuttle's engine, and the shuttle was crippled, almost destroyed. It would explode in a matter of minutes. _There might be a way to save that man,_ Mithic pondered, but then decided to land on the shuttle. He located the bridge of the ship and kept the pilot alive through the Force. He made it back to his starfighter with the man. Mithic barely had time to place the unconscious body of the shuttle's pilot in his A-Wing and depart the shuttle before it erupted into a cloud of flaming shrapnel and debris.

"R9, inform me if our 'friend' wakes up, okay?"

R9 replied by beeping, and if he could trust his interpretation of droid communication, Mithic figured it was a "yes, sir."

He resumed his course to Tatooine. About an hour away from the desert planet, R9 came to the bridge and performed some more beeping, which Mithic translated to mean "the prisoner is awake."

"So, ready to tell me what I want to know? I could always read your thoughts, you know. Or use this truth serum I have here. But, since I saved you, maybe you could return the favor and give me some information. Let's start with your name."

"It's Jomit. Jomit Cratele."

"Thank you, Jomit. Seems you know when to give up. So, who sent you to kill me?"

"J'ane Khan ordered me to attack your ship at Telos. He was informed by a superior that you were on Coruscant on Republic business, so I put a tracker on your ship in the docking bay when you left. I detected the signal at Telos, and he sent me there. I acquired a stealth shuttle from Czerka. They only asked one thing in return for their shuttle—I would have to attack Ms. Taraster on her way back to her quarters after the meeting with the corporation. I did not expect that soldier to attack me with a lightsaber, and because of my lack of planning, I wound up in TSF prison.

"Then, I remembered an item I acquired on Wukkar. It created a duplicate of the user, only it had a blaster wound on it. Since it was not real, and thus had no life signs, it was a very effective decoy. The tool also could disable force cages. I was very surprised I didn't remember that! Anyway, I made it back to Czerka, and they denied me the ship, saying that I would only get it when Ms. Taraster was dead. After Ms. Lorso had me leave, I rigged an astromech droid to explode, knowing she'd investigate it. Then, I stole the key from her desk and went down to the Czerka dock and picked up my ship. I waited a while, but finally, your ship appeared in my scanner. I apprehended you, and apparently, I failed again, and now here I am."

"Wow, I asked for a name and you give me a story! So, I'm guessing with your failure in capturing me, your boss would probably kill you if you returned?" Mithic said after Jomit's long story.

"Yeah, that sounds like classic J'ane. He'd pin me to a wall, cut circles into my stomach, and use me as target practice. I've seen it happen to some of his other minions that failed. I was actually one of the more successful ones!"

"Yeah, well, you can't always win. So, you want to tell me where I can find J'ane?"

"His base is outside Mos Eisley. He sometimes frequents the cantina, and he sometimes goes to Anchorhead to watch swoop races. I would definitely try the cantina first; he'll most likely be there."

"Okay, thanks, but you're coming with me. I don't trust you staying here, and I can protect you on the planet. Get ready to land, this one might be rough."

Before landing, Mithic checked where he even could land. Mos Eisley had no openings, so he settled for Anchorhead. It was a ways off from Mos Eisley, so he decided to acquire a landspeeder while on Tatooine. Jomit's clothing had been compromised in the crash, so Mithic let him borrow some of his old robes. Mithic donned his robes too, as he felt that his uniform would draw unwanted attention to himself, and maybe even trouble.

"So, you want buy a speeder, huh?" said the merchant, when Mithic asked what landspeeders he had in stock.

"Yes, I would like to purchase a landspeeder from you. It must be able to fit in the hangar of my ship, so if you have a smaller one, I would prefer that one."

"Yeah, I think you're in luck. This used one just came in last night. It's designed to be able to fit in ship hangars, and it's very affordable, too. Ten thousand credits."

"Ten thousand, huh? You want to let me have it for less, don't you?" Mithic said.

"Yes, you can have it for twenty-five hundred credits. I admire your diplomacy and manners."

"Thank you, kind sir."

Mithic and Jomit were showed to the new speeder and had it brought outside the shop. "Hey, Jomit, do you know how to get to Mos Eisley from here?" Mithic asked his new "partner."

"Yeah, I think I know where it is," Jomit replied, "but we'd better get either a map or directions just in case."

"Okay, not a problem." Mithic said before telling Jomit to get in the speeder. They drove it to the nearest market and purchased a map. "So, were you correct about the route?"

"Yeah, I was right. Let's get moving." They drove to the Anchorhead gates and got permission to leave the town. The ride to Mos Eisley was a long one, and they knew they were close when they were able to smell the town. Even though Mithic had never been to Mos Eisley, he knew from what he had heard that it was the most unsafe, unlawful, unclean town on the entire planet. The speeder pulled up to the cantina, and the two went in. Once inside, the bartender yelled out "Hey Jomit! You want a drink for you and your friend?"

"Yeah, I'll take the usual!" Jomit yelled back, then said to Mithic, "You want anything?"

"What would you recommend?"

"Well, I get Alderaanian ale, but that's some expensive shit. Corellian spiced ale is good, too, and it's cheaper. You want that?"

"Sure, I'll try the spiced ale."

"Hey, Wuher! Corellian spiced for my friend here!"

"Got it, Jomit!" replied Wuher, who Mithic gathered was the bartender. Jomit and Mithic walked to the bar and sat down on two empty stools and drank their ale. Breaking the silence, Jomit said, "See that man in the corner?"

"You mean the one in the heavy armor? Yeah, I see 'im. Who is he?"

"That's J'ane. I told you he'd be at the cantina. And because of Wuher, he knows I'm here. I expect he's waiting for the right moment to take me out. He knows what you look like, and since we're here together, he knows I failed—" Jomit was cut of, and his head fell forward into his ale. Instinctively, Mithic jumped out of his seat and drew his saber to deflect any more shots.

"Hey! No blasters in the cantina!" yelled Wuher, startled by the shot.

"Oh shut up, old man, or you'll end up like Jomit!" exclaimed J'ane. While the two were yelling at each other, Mithic drew his blaster, aimed and fired a crippling shot at J'ane. His opponent went down without a fight, and Mithic dragged his unconscious body out of the cantina.

"Sorry about the mess" Mithic said before leaving, and he flipped a credit chip to the bartender. He then decided to go back to the ship and interrogate yet another prisoner. J'ane woke up later, and Mithic asked him, "So, J'ane, you really thought Jomit could kill me, huh?"

"I thought so, but I was wrong. He only lived to fail me once. But you, I underestimated you. That is going to cost me."

"Yes it will cost you. It'll cost you your life. That is, if you don't answer my questions. First: Why do you want me dead?"

"I was told to have you knocked off. My master wants you dead. I just do the arrangements."

"Oh great, another master to kill off. Is he going to be in a cantina, too?"

"No, you'll never find him. I don't even know where he is!"

"You sure about that, J'ane?" Mithic stated in a dark, chilling voice, while igniting his lightsaber.

Obviously fearing for his life, J'ane replied in a frightened tone, "I don't know where he is! Please don't kill me! I can tell you who knows!"

"Alright, why didn't you say so already?"

"Just go back to the cantina tomorrow, same time you did today. i'll have it set up by then."

"You are free to go, but if I find out you tricked me, just know that I know where to find you, and I will dedicate my life to hunting you down, and when I find you, I'll put my lightsaber through your skull and laugh. I'll just laugh at your lifeless body while it falls to the ground. You understand me? I usually don't get mean, but when someone tricks me, I go all out."

"Yes" J'ane said, trembling with fear.

The next day, Mithic went to the Mos Eisley cantina again, orederd his new favorite beverage, and sat down at the table he was told to wait at. Soon, a man matching the description of the informant entered the cantina and sat down opposite Mithic.

"You wanted information on J'ane's boss, right, Human?"

The voice sounded metallic, almost as if it were a droid...

"That's right. I'm trying to locate his boss. Who is he, and where might I find him?"

"He's acting through Motta the Hutt, but nobody truly knows who is pulling the strings. All I know is that this guy's influence is spread half way across the Galaxy! Anyway, the one you want to talk to is Motta, he's in the Swoop Registration office in Anchorhead."

"Thanks! I hope your information proves useful."

"Don't worry, it will."

Mithic made his way back to Anchorhead, and found the Swoop Registration office. He went inside and found many racers, fans, and one Hutt, obviously Motta. He approached the slug-like creature. "Are you Motta the Hutt?" Mithic was lucky he had a knack for languages, or he'd be screwed.

"Yes, I am. Who's asking?"

"Captain John Mithic, that's who, and I believe you sent someone to have me killed. Give me one reason why I shouldn't turn that around on you, or I will."

"Okay, how about you wouldn't leave here alive if you did?"

"And why would that be?"

"That's why!" the Hutt said, as a familiar cloaked figure entered the room.

_That's the droid who told me about this place! He set me up!_ Mithic thought, as he prepared to fight. The droid was obviously an assassin droid, considering Motta's confidence in its abilities. And with that kind of firepower, he might be in danger. But he wasn't the only one in danger. That thing would bring the building down if it meant taking out it's target. And if that happened, then all of these civilians would die...

"Everyone, run! This place is going to get real ugly, real quickly. If you value your life, I would flee!" Mithic exclaimed befor igniting his lightsaber and turning to face the droid, now without its disguise on. It looked like Ms. Taraster's HK droid, only it was all black, and was equipped with much more significant firepower. It must've been a newer model...

The droid didn't wait in attacking. It unleashed blaster shots with amazing accuracy, but Mithic deflected them all. His connection with the Force had grown since the Battle of Dantooine, and he could sense each shot before it even left the chamber. This battle was his. Still pushing the shots back, he began to advance on the droid. It was now within striknig distance, and Mithic decided to disarm it. One slash rendered the rifle useless, but the fight was not over. The droid drew a strange colored sword and slashed Mithic's lightsaber. The saber's light flickered and then deactivated. "What the Force?"

"Cortosis ore."

"Oh, shit..."

The battle continud. Mithic managed to hold the droid off until his saber reactivated, and was able to cut off the hand weiling the cortosis blade. Then the droid drew a lightsaber, which greatly surprised Mithic. The droid, being mechanical, had no connection to the Force, which gave Mithic the upper hand. Soon, Mithic had the droid on the edge. It was barely dodging and parrying his slashes, and was obviously losing the fight. Then, to end it, Mithic started to do a blow to the right, and the droid moved to intercept. But it had been a trick, as he moved the saber up at an angle and the droid toppled over onto itself. The battle was won. Mithic's saber went to the droid's chest, and thrust forward, severing core circuits and killing the droid. Motta was still in the office, alone.

"Now, who ordered you to have me killed?"

"Your brother. He's here on Tatooine, waiting for you. Go out past Mos Eisley; you'll find his base there."

Mithic left the office and went back to his ship. After much thought, he decided to confront Eklipse. _He's been behind all of this all along, and must be stopped._

He took the land speeder back to Mos Eisley and once again paid the cantina a visit. He got his spiced ale and asked the bartender if he knew anywhere a base could be located around Mos Eisley, aside from K'ane's base.

"Well, there is this place where a Hutt used to live, out near the Pit of Carkoon. You should check there, but beware of the Sarlacc."

"Okay, will do. Thanks."

"No problem."

He finished his drink and went in the direction Wuher pointed him. Sure enough, the old Hutt base was there, but it hadn't been used in many years. The gate out front was locked. _Nothing a lightsaber can't handle,_ Mithic thought as he ignited his saber and cut a hole in the gate.

Immediately after entering the fortress, he was attacked by two guards wielding red lightsabers and wearing all black. They were easily dispatched; obviously they were not trained very well. Eklipse was definitely here.

Making his way through a few hallways, and carving through five more guards, he found an armory. There were lightsabers, unused color crystals, focusing crystals, Sith robes, Jedi robes, heavy guns, heavy armor, and much more. He decided to take the stuff back to his ship once he was done in the fortress. The Republic and the Jedi could use this equipment. Near the armory was the security room, and Mithic was able to infiltrate the room without alerting the security personnel. He then took them out.

Observing the security cameras, he found they were equipped with turrets and that Eklipse was located in the main hall. Mithic found the most direct route, shot down any guard within range of the camera turrets, and made his way to the main hall, prepared to fight.

"How nice of you to join us, brother. Greetings and welcome to...your death!"Eklipse stated, before jumping from his throne, lightsaber ignited. The two clones began to fight. They were equally matched in combat and in Force abilities. Mithic was as attuned to the light side as Eklipse was to the dark side of the Force. The contrast of their lightsabers' colors shone an eerie grey light upon the room, and soon all of Eklipse's minions came to watch the fight.

One eager soldier fired at Mithic, but the shot was deflected right back into the soldier's forehead, killing him on contact. No other soldier dared attempt to interrupt the battle after that. The two clones continued to strike at each other for hours more. Mithic realized he was fighting a pointless battle, and struck a confusing blow to catch Eklipse off guard. He then Force jumped behind the crowd of soldiers and let loose a wave of the Force, stunning all of them long enough to escape.

Outside the fortress, he found the wall that corresponded with the armory, and drove the speeder around to it. Cutting another hole in the wall, he grabbed all of the gear, stuffed it into the landspeeder, and took off. He got back to the cantina, got a keg of Corellian spiced ale, and went back to Anchorhead to get back to his ship. Mithic loaded his landspeeder into his ship's hangar, placed the gear in the cargo hold, and left the planet. He was going back to Telos to warn the others.

While in hyperspace, he sensed Eklipse leaving Tatooine. _I lost him again, damn it!_ he thought. The most dangerous man in the galaxy had escaped, and all trace of his clone was gone.

---------------

When Telos showed up in the viewport, Indy couldn't have been more thankful and happy to see the dying planet. Telos was just that: a dying planet. The Republic intended to use it as an example for all the other worlds that had been massacred during the wars. Though it was a valiant effort on the Republic's part, many did not have faith that it could be done. The once beautiful surface of Telos was now highly corrosive, and was difficult enough to heal. Not to mention all the many problems that Citadel Station faced.

A large part of the problems that beset the doomed planet of Telos was the two warring factions on it. On one side, Telos had Czerka Corporation. Czerka, run by executive Jana Lorso, had large plans for Telos. However, even though their plans cost less money, it wouldn't be good for the planet in the long run. In fact, were Czerka to take total control over Telos, it would merely become another planet similar to Coruscant or Nar Shaddaa.

On the other side were the Ithorians. Ithorians were peaceful, nature-loving creatures who had vast knowledge of ecosystems and the intricacies of the flora and fauna that populated them. They had been he ones originally in charge of the Restoration Project. However, their plans were very costly and the Republic was already in sore need of more credits. Repairing Telos was becoming a big deal, and it could determine the very fate of the Republic.

Indy prepared the ship for landing, mulling over the plans in store for Telos. She wasn't really on anyone's side, but she couldn't stand Czerka very much—so she'd rather see the Ithorians in charge of the planet's restoration.

"It's a pity," Han mumbled.

"What?"

"The planet," he explained. "I'd been here a few times before the war for smuggling runs. Telos had been almost as beautiful as Naboo was."

"Getting sentimental on me, smuggler?" Indy asked, though her tone was light-hearted.

Han chuckled before replying, "Don't worry kid, I still eat nails for breakfast."

She had to repress the urge to laugh at that. Han always knew just what to say to lighten—or darken— the mood. Being in such close proximity to him was difficult for Indy. After they'd shared such an intimate relationship, it was easy to fall back into old habits. But she had polluted her mind with so many false accusations leveled at Han that she'd almost believed them. It was hard to let go of those accusations even after knowing them to be false.

So she did what she knew best: she hid. She hid her feelings from him. He didn't need to know, and she wasn't going to tell him. She doubted he wanted a real relationship anyway, and she wasn't about to be saddled to a man who didn't truly love her. She didn't know if he did or not, but she was too self-conscious to even attempt to ask him about how he felt.

"So...I never got around to asking you," Han began, breaking the deafening silence. She was, at least, thankful for that much. "Do you have the artifact on you?"

Of course she did. No good archaeologist left a prized position such as that artifact—or holocron, as she now knew it to be—unguarded or alone for that matter. It was in her pocket in actuality, but she didn't feel the need to share that bit of information with her scoundrel friend.

"Not on me," she lied. "Why do you ask?"

Han furrowed his brow, determined to see if she was bluffing or not. "It'd just be nice to know if you did...that way I'd know if they were going to—ah, never mind."

"What?" Indy asked, taking the bait unknowingly.

"Well, if you did have it on you...then we have the element of surprise. I believe they suspect it's hidden somewhere in your apartment," Han explained. As of late, the scoundrel had become very cryptic.

It was beginning to annoy Indy. "So you're saying that if I had it, we could possibly use it as a bartering chip?"

Han raised an eyebrow. "Possibly."

Indy cleared her throat uncomfortably, and turned her attention back to landing her ship. Han felt like slapping the truth out of her, but knew that would get him absolutely no where. Though, it might get him a good slap or two...and relieve him of his frustration. The woman was being damn stubborn, and it was driving him absolutely crazy. He had thought she'd warm up sooner than this, but obviously her distrust of him still ran strong.

He planned to correct that.

As the ship landed with a crunch, Indy grimaced. She had had a suspicion that the landing gears weren't working properly, and that crunch had confirmed it. By the sound, Indy assumed that the frontal landing gears had buckled under the pressure of the ship, and she wouldn't be able to land again without getting them replaced. This ship was deteriorating right out from under her.

"Damn it," Indy mumbled, getting out her seat and heading towards the back of the ship.

Han followed suit, seeing this as an opportune moment to have a word with Indy. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure," Indy said, scooting down into one of the ships ducts, and crouching to see the front and upper landing gears. "But I suspect it's the landing gears...buckled under pressure."

"They old?"

"Not _that_ old," she replied snappily, in defense of her ship.

Han kneeled down to get a better look, while Indy went about analyzing the problem.

"Bloody Kinrath...thing snapped right in half," Indy cursed, hanging her head.

"I think I know a way to fix that temporarily—"

"I can handle it," Indy replied quickly, "I'm not new to this, you know."

"Yeah, but I've dealt with this several times before. It's a simple matter of—"

"Han!"

"I'm just trying to help! Sheeesh!" Han said, leaning down closer regardless of her anger.

"I don't need it...not from you," she added bitterly.

Silence ensued just before Han yanked Indy out of the duct and upward, standing her on her feet and forcing her to back up against an adjacent wall to avoid being too close to him. It was all in vain, because he was pressed up against her shortly after. His head hovered closely to her own, his lips a mere breadth away. Indy was now extremely nervous and uncomfortable.

"Get away from me."

"No."

"Now, Han, this isn't funny."

"I'm not laughing."

Indy's glare could have bore holes through the scoundrel, but fortunately it didn't. He merely grinned devilishly, before crooking an eyebrow. His deep and dark-colored eyes looked intently into Indy's hazel ones. Instead of finding a cold gaze, Indy was met with a warm and passionate one. She was buckling under his gaze and it was becoming harder to think straight with him pressed so closely against her.

"_We_ need to talk," Han said.

At the moment, Indy was more concerned with things other than talking.

"You could've just asked, you stupid scoundrel," Indy grumbled.

Han smiled. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, you weren't listening to me."

"Yes, I was."

"Indy..." Han said in a condescending voice.

"Oh, all right. So maybe I wasn't. I'm just still...I don't want to talk about it," she finished stubbornly.

"But I do, so we are going to talk about it. Right _now_."

Han's gaze didn't waver, and it was starting to become highly unnerving. Indy didn't know how much longer she could resist the temptation to lean forward but a little and kiss the man who'd once made love to her. Though she was pressed up against the wall, she noted that Han was making sure not to crush her by accident. As much as she wished that she didn't, she still cared for the smuggler.

"What do you want to talk about?" she said, swallowing.

"First, this problem you seem to have with me. And don't say you don't know what I'm talking about because I know you do. You've been ignoring me, and snapping at me since I found you," Han said.

"I don't want to talk about it, Han," she said pitifully.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"That's not a very good reason."

"It is for me..." Indy replied, barely noticing that Han's head was moving closer to her own.

Han lowered his head further. "Well, it isn't for me."

"You can't always get what you want," Indy said softly right before Han's lips captured her own in a passionate kiss.

Indy gave into his kiss, releasing some of the anger she'd felt towards him moments ago. What he was doing was making her lose her train of thought...she could barely concentrate when he was kissing her so deeply. He leaned against her further, and she arched towards him...unable to get enough of the tempstrous scoundrel. This Han was the one she remembered, the one that could make her lose herself so completely and so quickly.

Han's hand stroked the side of Indy's face gently as he continued to kiss her, and as the kiss deepened, Indy was afraid that they were headed to a place where there would be no going back from. Indy felt his arm slide around her waist, pulling her closer to him, and that was when she managed to regain her composure. She couldn't risk getting involved with him again...it had hurt too much last time. She'd almost lost everything as well.

"No, Han..." she breathed raggedly, breaking the kiss.

Han seemed stupefied that she'd managed to break the kiss. He merely let go of her, ran a hand through his mussed hair and then stalked out of the small room, and down the loading ramp...headed to...Indy could only guess where.

She only wished that she was going with him.

-------------------

"Again, I want to thank you for helping Bao and me, Mical," Igrayne said, hugging her friend briefly. "If it wasn't for you, well, I don't even want to think about what could have happened."

Mical smiled faintly. "Of course, it was my pleasure. Just make sure you avoid certain fiery explosions from now on."

"Why, Mical, was that a joke?" Igrayne teased.

"I know...shocking," he said, laughing although his heart was not in it and it was a hollow laugh. "I wish you two luck in whatever you intend to do here on Telos."

Bao nodded, shaking Mical's hand in a friendly gesture. "Thanks again, Mical."

"We should probably check in with the Council about this," Igrayne told Bao, and the Zabrak agreed. "They're probably wondering what has happened to us."

"I agree. We shall have to speak with the Admiral about this—if only to assure him that the Restoration should continue. He may also dig up some leads on who was trying to kill us," Bao contemplated out loud.

"Probably Czerka. They have been fighting the Jedi's involvement since the beginning. Remember how upset Master Vrook was when they denied him access the first time?" Igrayne said, recalling the memory fondly.

"I wasn't aware a Jedi Master's face could turn that red..." Bao said, chuckling quietly.

"If you need a place to stay, feel free to use my home as your accommodations. I rarely go there anymore, anyway. I am swamped here...what with many civilians getting hurt these days working on the Restoration Project," Mical explained. Mical did not feel the need to add the fact they he was having difficulty sleeping anywhere these days, so his home was pretty worthless. "It's in the B apartments, not far from here."

"Mical, you don't have to do that. Bao and I can find a place—" Igrayne began.

"I insist. If I can aid you in any other way, you have but to ask," Mical said admirably. "Good luck with your mission...or whatever it is you intend to do."

Igrayne's smile was sad, but she thanked him for his hospitality. He had lost everything that he'd cared about, yet he still continued to give to others. It was amazing to Igrayne, and she frowned upon the fact that he was no longer a Jedi. He would have been a valuable asset to the Order. But after Carina had died, she didn't blame him for turning his back on the Order.

Bao-Dur and Igrayne made their way towards the B apartments, only to get settled before setting off to go speak with Admiral Onasi. Part of Igrayne hoped that Rani would be with him, so that they'd have a chance to speak with her as well. She hadn't stayed in contact with her friend very much, having been too busy with Jedi affairs to call her up and chat.

When they entered Mical's apartment, it was apparent he hadn't visited it in sometime. Everything was clean, and it looked brand new, so someone had to be taking care of it. But Igrayne doubted it was Mical, especially since he looked a mess himself. She pitied the man and her heart went out to him, it really did. But she hoped he'd eventually let Carina go. It wasn't as if he could change what happened now.

Bao limped over to a chair and sat down in it. His wound was still hurting, even though it had almost fully healed. He would carry a scar from it, however, for life. Igrayne touched the side of his face tenderly, smiling softly at him. Then she went to the communicator and quickly managed to contact the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. It had been a while since they'd last checked in, and she knew she was in for an earful.

"This is Jedi Igrayne, please connect me to Master Vrook," Igrayne told the droid on the screen.

"Connecting...one moment...one moment..." The droid replied.

The screen changed to the old Jedi Master shortly after. Vrook wore his usual frown, and he looked more tired than usual. She could sense some discomfort from him just by looking at the screen.

"Jedi Igrayne, I assume Jedi Bao-Dur is with you as well?" Vrook stated more than asked.

"Yes, Master. We were held up, as it were," she began.

"No excuses, Igrayne, you know better than to keep the Council waiting. What are your results from Telos?"

"That was actually what I would like to talk to you about, Master. We don't have those results yet because we were attacked on our way here," Igrayne explained, and Vrook's frown deepened. "Our ship exploded upon landing, and nearly killed us both."

"Well, then it is fortunate that we are even able to have this conversation. Do you have any suspicions on whom it was?" Vrook queried.

"No, Masters. I suspect it could possibly be one of the Ansions, bitter with how things worked out."

"But?"

Igrayne grimaced. "I think it was someone else. Someone wanted us not to aid Telos."

"You are right to trust your feelings on this matter. How did Ansion go? Have you prepared a report?"

Bao stood now, and walked slowly over and stood beside Igrayne. "Ansion was a success. Thanks to Igrayne's quick thinking, we were able to settle the dispute before it escalated to bloodshed."

"Good to hear it," Vrook said, though it was in a tone that showed he was unimpressed. "If that is all—"

Igrayne decided it was time she spoke up. "Master, forgive my boldness, but you spoke earlier about perhaps promoting me to knight upon our return from Ansion."

An awkward silence penetrated the room. Vrook's gaze did not waver whatsoever, but Igrayne was growing tense just waiting there. Bao, who stood next to her, slipped his hand around Igrayne's in a comforting gesture. Vrook didn't notice...or he chose to ignore it.

"You are correct. I believe you are worthy of the rank you so desire, but it will not be easy. And since you are currently on Telos, it is impossible. You must return to Coruscant first," Vrook explained. "Only then can we perform the ceremony required to make you a Jedi Knight."

"Thank you, Master," Igrayne beamed.

"I would prefer if you stayed on Telos for the time being, however. I will be sending more Jedi to help you later," Vrook said. "Once the situation here is somewhat stable, you may return for the knighting ceremony. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Master."

"Good. I shall contact you later."

Igrayne smiled cheerfully. She was going to become a knight! It was about time, and she was completely excited for it. She had already prepared herself mentally for the possibility that she might be promoted, but it was even more exciting now that it happened. Bao shared in her excitement, but he didn't show it near as much.

"Congratulations, General," he said gently.

"I can't believe it! Me, a Jedi Knight!" Igrayne cried, failing to keep a calm facade.

"You deserve it, Igrayne. You have sacrificed much for the Jedi Order."

"I never had to sacrifice you," she replied almost instantly, thinking vaguely of her friend Evy, who had had to choose between Atton and the Jedi. "I am thankful for that."

Bao's smile widened and he nodded in agreement.


	4. At The Orbiting Star

Han briskly walked away from the battered and beaten ship. His expression was one of anger. He was angry at the fact that he had been so close, yet so far. At the same time, he was angry at himself for even _trying_.

Kicking at the ground as he walked he automatically walked into a cantina, a pure reflex really. Looking around the cantina he saw Pazaak tables with the players laughing, or gesturing rudely at their opponent, the tables were filled by a wide variety of beings from all corners of the galaxy.

Feeling his pocket for his credits he wondered if he really wanted to risk his money on the Pazaak tables, or just sit back, take a drink and muse about the situation between him and Indy.

Shrugging he joined a Pazaak table and was soon engrossed in a game. Soon another player arrived and he looked up. To his surprise it was Atton. He hadn't really expected to see anyone from their adventures.

Atton had obviously felt that Han had been starting at him, he looked up, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then his expression turned guarded. There was no doubt he thought the same as Indy—that he had ditched them on the eve of battle.

"Oh, it's you." Atton said, without showing any particular emotion. Han sighed, a bit frustrated that it seemed even Atton thought he had run off on them.

"Look, Atton, about what happened on Dantooine—" Han started, but Atton cut him off.

"What, Han? Want to _apologize_?"

This was the last straw. "Damn it! You thought the same as Indy?! I didn't run off on you guys, I lured them away for a time!"

Now Han noticed most of the other players at the table had walked off or were ignoring the conversation between him and Atton.

Atton eyed Han for a moment, and Han continued. "I managed to lure the Sith away for some time. They thought I was evacuating Jedi off the planet. I led them to believe that and gave you guys more time!"

Atton was silence for a while, digesting what Han had told him. He looked at Han, his expression softer than it had been. "Why did you leave in the first place?" He asked.

Han looked down at his cards. "I was having problems with Indy... hell, I'm _still_ having problems." The anger that was directed at himself returned, and he let out a frustrated sigh. Atton chuckled slightly.

"Know what you mean, man. Having problems with the lady myself." Atton said and took a swig of his drink.

"Aren't we all?" Han muttered. "What's happening with Evy and you now, then?"

"She wants to get married..." Atton said with a slight groan, and Han let out a loud laugh.

------------------

Igrayne was sitting alone in the apartment, digesting the news of her promotion. It had come so swiftly, she'd hardly been expecting it. Perhaps, if she'd never opened her mouth and asked Master Vrook, it would've taken years coming. Igrayne wasn't totally focused on Vrook, however. Her thoughts were permeated by the remembrance of Malachor V—a decisive battle of more than four years ago. It had temporarily ended the Sith threat, much like Dantooine, and now all she was left with were the lingering memories—and the _echo_.

She could remember little before Malachor, though it never struck her as odd. Bao-Dur had once explained to her that it was so traumatic for the both of them that they had sought to suppress, in their own ways, the memories from ever reentering their minds. In the past few months, Igrayne was finding those memories increasingly harder to repress. As soon as it all came flooding back, she was swept up in a whirlwind of emotion. She remembered not only Malachor, but her days as a General on Kuat. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

She remembered growing up as a daughter of one of the ruling houses of Kuat. Though that part of her life was very hazy, she knew it was a happy life. She had always seemed destined for leadership at a very young age, so her parents reluctantly indulged her desire to pursue a military career. After entering a military training corps, she was appointed several titles, the highest of which was general. The day she had been pinned with a medal was the happiest day of her life.

That happy day was overshadowed by the threat of the Sith. Kuat was a very out-of-the-way planet that served as the provider of the Republic's finest ships. Growing up there had never been anything special, but Igrayne fought that day with increased vigor in order to preserve it. Her Kuati troops seemed to sense their leader's urgency and mimicked it with a strength of their own. When she gave the order to activate the Mass Shadow Generator, she had no idea of the magnitude of what she had unleashed.

Her brief amnesiac spell was beginning to fade now that she was beginning to deal with the consequences of what she'd wrought at Malachor. Once again, like she always did, she put the past behind her.

Igrayne closed her eyes and brushed her hair out. The brief ordeal with Bao-Dur and the explosion that had torn apart their ship left her little time to take care of herself. Looking into the mirror, she could see why many people weren't very friendly to her as she passed.

Igrayne put down the brush as soon as she heard the door open. It was Bao-Dur, returning from his quest to the Telosian vendors, in pursuit of mechanical parts to fix his remote, which had been partially damaged in the blast. Though she urged him to take it slow the first few days of his recovery, the Zabrak had stubbornly refused to listen to any of her demands.

"You find what you needed?"

"Yeah," Bao-Dur said, unstrapping a small pouch full of items from his shoulder. He laid it down on a nearby workbench. The remote's dissected inwards were splayed across it, and he immediately set to work.

"We have a meeting in the morning with Chodo Habat."

Bao-Dur didn't even turn to ask her how she had managed that. Igrayne had gone briefly to visit the Ithorian headquarters and arrange for an assignment with the Telos Restoration Effort. Igrayne was tired of dealing with bureaucracy. She was going to be happy to see her other friends when they began working.

"You don't seem too enthusiastic," she noted. "What, do you have a personal vendetta with the Ithorians or something?"

Bao-Dur twisted his head around to peer quizzically at her. His hands didn't stop assembling the remote as he spoke.

"If the Republic would just rein Czerka in, there'd be no problem. But as long as Czerka is allowed to undermine the Ithorians' efforts, Telos will remain _dead_." The Zabrak shook his head. "I can't take seeing my work being used by those _bloodsuckers_."

"That's a pretty harsh indictment."

"Call it what you want, General, but Czerka Corporation is nothing but a bunch of murdering opportunists. They oppress the local populace for profit. They have a tendency to…_remove_…all other competition by whatever means. They've destroyed much of the native ecosystem here on Telos and attempted to ruin the Restoration Project."

"Well, then, you'll be happy to help the Ithorians further their cause."

"Yes, General, but…I have a feeling that for every step forward, we'll be taking two steps backward."

Igrayne nodded. What Bao-Dur said was true, but that didn't mean they shouldn't at least try. She leaned against the door frame and watched him tinker with his remote. As he put the finishing touches on its outer hull, he looked utterly serene, engrossed in his work.

"Now that the masters are promoting you in rank, you will need to build a new lightsaber."

"I like the one I have," Igrayne said, clasping the cylindrical tube that dangled from her belt.

"You must build another as part of your training. Without it, you're not complete."

Igrayne shrugged.

"I don't even know where to begin. I don't know what components I need."

"I think I can help you out there. I happen to know the parts you need," Bao-Dur said, volunteering himself for the job. "I spent a lot of time around Jedi during the war. None of them would let me take their lightsaber apart, but I did learn about their construction."

She knew that he had familiarized himself with the basics of constructing a lightsaber from his time spent with Jedi during the wars, but she never expected he'd offer to help her with hers.

"Okay," Igrayne replied, listening closely.

"We need a power cell, an emitter matrix, lens, and focusing crystal. Though I have to admit, the crystal is beyond my means."

"Don't worry about the crystal. I can get one."

"Good. Just bring the parts to me before you get started building it. I'll make sure they're usable."

After scrounging around a bin full of components that Bao-Dur offered for her to delve through, Igrayne selected a few that fitted the requirements of her new saber. Fortunately, she had acquired a bright silver crystal while on their last mission in Ansion without Bao-Dur's knowledge. When she returned a few minutes later with all of the components in order, the Zabrak looked slightly baffled.

"Back already?"

"I have everything," Igrayne said, spilling all the contents out across the workbench. Bao-Dur did a double-check to make sure they had everything.

"That's everything. Now all I need is a little quiet time with the workbench."

"May I watch?" Igrayne asked, pulling up a seat next to him.

"Sure."

He pointed out all the components as he worked and how they should be constructed to her maximum benefit. It took over a half hour to assemble the saber, but as they worked, they talked about Malachor and other forgotten memories. Bao-Dur seemed particularly resistant to her attempts to try and pump him for information.

"I don't really want to talk about it," he said tersely. "I'm just glad it's over."

When they finished with the saber, he presented it to her.

"There. All done, I think. If anything comes apart, let me know."

"Thank you," she said, taking the lightsaber. She would need to present it to Vrook once in Coruscant for his approval. She had taken an active interest in its assembly, but Bao-Dur had done most of the work. She hoped it would be satisfactory to the old Jedi master.

"No problem, General."

---------------

"Focus, you must _focus_," Kavar said sharply. He could sense his padawan's mind was elsewhere, and she could similarly sense his frustration with her. Carina dropped out of a lotus position, brushing her hair furiously back from her sweat-moistened temples.

"I'm _trying_, but you're not exactly making it easy on me, Master."

"You think the life of a Jedi is supposed to be _easy_?" Kavar asked disdainfully.

"Look, I didn't ask for this kind of life, so don't lecture me."

"Snide contempt. I should have expected as much from one such as you."

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Kavar restrained himself from unveiling the secret of her past right then and there. He had come so close to letting a few spiteful remarks slip off his tongue that he had almost forgotten what it might cost him. Vrook was not above stripping another Jedi master of his title if the offense was great enough.

"Again," Kavar prompted her, circling the room with both arms clasped behind his back. "We begin by learning Form One."

Carina gave a frustrated sigh as she resumed a defensive stance. Instead of a normal lightsaber, however, Kavar had given her a short pole arm for practice. She would need to construct her own when she undertook the advancement ceremony—which looked to be further and further away the more distant her mind grew from the training.

"You wouldn't expect someone to know how to use a lightsaber if they only read about technique, would you?" she queried, swinging the wooden pole arm around by the hilt.

"You study and apply the techniques. It's quite simple." Kavar narrowed his eyes at Carina, who was doing her best to maintain a serene expression. "And besides, why would you need to be experienced? There would be no need for such knowledge."

Carina looked at the pole arm deplorably and gripped it. Kavar mirrored her stance with one of his own, his feet spaced evenly apart, giving him a decided advantage in weight and balance. Carina surveyed her opponent, trying to stake out an easy point of attack.

"Then what's the point of training me?"

"For protection."

"From what?" she queried while launching an attack at the master. Kavar answered her with a sharp grunt as she knocked the upside of her staff against his. He merely held his polearm at a horizontal angle, working the rhythm of his wrist to deflect both high and low blows.

"Shii-Cho is used as a short range combative measure. Its simplicity and versatility makes the movements easy to execute, especially in times of distress." Kavar said all this while easily deflecting her blows, his eyes concentrated on a fixed spot in the corner of the room. "It consists of a series of attacks and parries. It is good for enemies that wield conventional blaster weaponry. Never mistake its simplicity for a weakness, however. When other combat styles fail, Shii-Cho will allow you to deflect blasterfire in the time needed for you to escape."

The training drill was tiring her out already, and Carina already decided she'd had enough of it when she gave her polearm one final swing. The staff missed its intended mark, instead falling to the ground when Kavar met her cutting attack with nonresistance.

"Another benefit of Shii-Cho," Kavar noted. "Your enemy's attack becomes a gift which you can then use against him. Many people underestimate this lightsaber form, but it hasn't failed me yet in all the battles I've fought."

Carina threw down her practice weapon, exhausted by the training. Her forehead was matted with sweat, and her underarms boasted copious amounts of bodily excretions, too. She was beginning to smell. A dip in the 'fresher was much needed.

"I've got it. Enough already. I'm not a ten-year-old."

"But you are my apprentice. As such, you are required to know all the basic attack forms," Kavar explained levelly. "Without them, you cannot advance."

"Look, I really don't care," Carina said, walking toward the door.

"I haven't dismissed you yet."

Carina stopped, turned on her heel, radiating pure anger. Her focus was no longer on the lesson. Her frustration with the complexity of all the teachings she was about to undertake was beginning to wear her out, as was her frustration with herself. Picking up the lightsaber forms was going to take all of her attention, and Kavar seemed to neither know or care what she wanted. It certainly wasn't this. This had been forced upon her.

"Sorry, master. I am just tired from the training. I didn't mean to offend you." The words were mechanical, and she put little emotion into them.

"I suspected as much. Your lack of focus is something that shall have to be remedied. All in due time, though. Go down to dinner; I will meet you there."

"Yes, Master."

While on the way to dinner, Carina decided to take a short detour through the crowded halls of the temple to explore some more. Kavar really hadn't given her the grand tour yet, and she was eager to see just how monumental the temple was. Apart from the Room of a Thousand Fountains and Kavar's chambers, she really hadn't seen much of the fabled center for learning and knowledge.

She walked briskly down the hall before turning the corner into a rather flustered looking figure. A small box of tools went flying as they collided. Next thing she knew, she was on her back staring up at the ceiling. The creature immediately started collecting his tools back into the small utility box he was carrying with him. He paused momentarily to gape at her.

"Carina?" He extended a hand to help her to her feet. "Is it…can it be…you?"

Carina squinted at him, rubbing her head as she sat up and gazed at his hand, pondering whether or not to take it. Normally, she wouldn't have taken a chance—but she was in the Jedi Temple, and she was pretty sure nothing bad had ever happened there. She accepted the hand and stood up.

"Who's Carina?"

The creature laughed wholeheartedly, showing a jagged smile of pointed teeth as he did so. He had on a long cloak that obscured the long, pointed horns that poked out from underneath it.

"Is that a joke?"

Carina merely narrowed her eyes in response. The creature let out a dismal sigh.

"You don't remember me."

"That's because we've never met."

The Zabrak nodded his head regally, saying nothing more than was absolutely necessary. There had to be some reason for her presence in the Jedi Temple—but he wasn't sure what it was. The last time he had seen her, she had been an all-powerful Sith lord. Was this some kind of cruel joke?

"I am Kevan."

"I'm sorry I broke your tool box," Carina said at last, dropping to her knees to help him gather the remaining few tools. As she worked, Kevan couldn't help but stare at her. He hoped she didn't notice and think he was some alien with more than a healthy interest in her.

_It can't be true_, Kevan thought. _They said she was dead…_

"Well, Kevan, it was nice to meet you. I'm off to dinner. I have to meet my master," Carina explained before hopping off to find the dining hall. Kevan watched for a long time after her, adjusting the tool box to a more comfortable position in the crook of his arm. He had taken up small odd jobs here and there, working as a technician and mechanic for however many credits he could get. When his latest job called him to the Jedi Temple, he thought nothing of it.

Until he saw _her_. How could it be that Carina was really, truly alive?

------------------

There was only one patient that Evy was responsible for, and right now the old man with a fever was sleeping. After restocking all of the supplies and then organizing Mical's office, Evy found herself quite bored. She checked the other sections of the hospital, and found that they too had few patients. While Evy wished health for everyone, she always disliked the clinic when it was so empty.

Evy found her strength in helping and healing others, plus, the work was a diversion from the problems in her life. She loved Atton, but she didn't know if she could go on without a real commitment from him. 

"What are you thinking about, kitten?" Tren's voice interrupted Evy's depressing musings.

She turned to the good-looking man. "Atton," she answered.

"Aw, don't worry about him," Tren answered, purposely being vague. He didn't want to have to choose sides.

"Oh, and who am I supposed to worry about, you?" Evy retorted, angry that Tren was not taking her concern seriously.

"You said it, not me, kitten," Trentyn answered, leaning down towards her. Evy didn't back away. She knew him well enough to know that his default mode in dealing with women was to flirt with them.

"Are you saying that _you_ would be good for me?" Evy questioned. Even though she truly was upset with Atton, she found herself getting caught up in Tren's game. He usually did have that effect on her.

"I'm good for a lot of women," Tren replied, winking.

Evy shook her head. "Atton's already _good_ for me… now I want him to marry me…"

"The only woman I've ever met that I would marry is Rheya and you," Tren said, staring off in the distance with thought.

"I didn't know that you felt that way about Indy," Evy said, carefully steering the conversation away from dangerous territory.

"Yeah, well, I messed that up, and that book closed a lot time ago. I still love her, but in the way that I really want her to have a good life and be happy…" Tren spilled his true feelings rarely, and Evy listened enraptured. 

"What was it about Indy that made her marriage material? I mean, you meet a lot of women," Evy asked. She wondered silently if Atton thought of herself as marriageable.

Tren smiled broadly, his straight, white, teeth showing between his succulent lips. Evy was disturbed that she even noticed it.

"Well, you and Rheya are very different, but there are a few things that you have in common… you're both strong women. Rheya rarely let me win an argument, and you have a mind of your own too; I like that. And I hate women that whine…and you both can throw a mean insult, but never nag."

"Is that all it takes?" Evy asked.

"Nah, you gotta be hot too!" Tren said, jokingly.

Evy punched him slightly in the chest, and he grabbed her wrist.

"And," Tren continued, still holding her wrist, and moving closer to her face, "a woman has to have that fire… that heat in her eyes… that's what really gets me."

His eyes were a deep blue, and they attracted her. There was always something hiding in them, it seemed that if she stared into them long enough, she would finally be able to solve the mystery of Trentyn. Her cheeks grew redder as he held her wrist and stared at her face. Evy dropped her gaze from his. 

Finally, Tren released her wrist, and turned away from her.

"So, whatever happened to Bastila?" he asked, a forced casualness in his voice.

"She said she had Jedi business to attend to. I saw her earlier, but she didn't tell me what she was doing."

"Why do you still keep in contact with each other?" Tren asked, looking at her with a curious expression.

"Bastila is my friend…"

"It's more than that. Come on, I know her, and she's just not someone that you meet up with for fun."

"Okay, fine, she's been meditating with me to help me focus my Force healing powers! And what are you talking about? How many times have you met up with Bastila for _fun_?"

"Nothing like _that_ happened between Bastila and I," Tren said, turning very serious suddenly. 

"What's wrong?" Evy asked, drawing nearer to Tren again.

He looked at her for a few moments before speaking.

"Even with all of her faults… I just… I miss her…"

"Didn't you break up with her?" Evy asked.

"Well, I had the idea, but it was a mutual decision. I couldn't deal with not being able to see her very often, and she felt like she was betraying the Jedi."

"Do you love her?" The question came out before Evy could stop herself from asking it, and she wondered why she even cared.

Tren's eyes flashed momentarily, but he put his barrier up fast. "Eh, the only women I've ever truly loved in my life are my mom and sister. Love is deep; it takes a lot out of you. To care about someone so much… I care about Bastila a lot, but I can't let myself feel that way about anyone. It's dangerous."

Evy unintentionally stared at Trentyn. He confused her. One moment, he seemed so archetypical, so predictable, and the next, she would get a hint of his convoluted personality that hid behind the apathetic exterior.

"I think I need a drink," he said, smiling. Evy recognized that she wouldn't get any more information out of him tonight. She looked away from Tren's face and saw Dr. Disciple, trudging down the hallway and looking as bored as she had been.

"Hey Tren, do you think you can do a favor for me?"

"Sure kitten, but didn't Atton give you enough the other night?"

Evy rolled her eyes, but continued. "Mical needs to get his mind off things, and I think you should take him over to the cantina." With their lack of patients, both Mical and Evy didn't need to be on duty. 

Trentyn glanced over to Mical's form coming towards them.

"It's nothing a few drinks and a sexy Twi'lek can't handle…" Tren commented.

_I doubt that_, Evy thought.

------------------------------------

"When the proposal by Czerka for the Restoration Effort comes out on the news, make sure the media already has my statement supporting the Ithorians," Rani instructed her campaign manager as she absentmindedly scratched the edge of the bandage on her arm.

"Yes, Ms. Taraster, I'll make sure they have it" the Cerean, Ce-Ira-Mundi, answered.

"You can just call me Rani," she said giving him a friendly smile. Even though Rani was running for Senator, and often had to act in a certain way, she found herself craving normal conversation.

Rani continued to instruct her campaign manager, who calmly entered the information into a datapad, while Atton and Han played Pazaak at a table in the common room. After hearing about Han leading some of the Sith away from Dantooine when he left, the whole gang had immediately changed their opinion about the scoundrel. Indy locked herself in one of Carth and Rani's spare bedrooms, trying to figure out a way to activate the ancient holocron.

"Hey, gorgeous," Carth said, greeting Rani.

She turned to him smiling as her campaign manager left for the night.

"Yes, my sexy Admiral?" Rani said, flirting.

Seeing that they were having a rare moment alone, Carth wrapped his arms around her slender waist and pulled her against him. She wrapped one arm around his neck, and with the other, she used the tips of her fingers to caress his lips. Carth nipped at them playfully.

"Do you love me or my rank?" he asked, dipping down to kiss her lips softly.

"Hmmm… that's a tough one. I always did have a weakness for a man in uniform," Rani replied.

Carth laughed. "And I always had a weakness for powerful women, Senator Rani."

Rani raised an amused eyebrow. "Powerful women, eh?"

She pushed Carth back onto the couch. He was much stronger than her, but allowed himself to fall onto the couch on his back. Rani quickly hopped on top of him, straddling him as he leaned back on the cushions. She grabbed the collar of his jacket with one hand, and ran her fingers roughly through his hair with the other one, as she kissed him forcefully. His hands rested on her curvaceous hips, his grip tightening as the kiss deepened.

"Is this strong enough for you, Admiral?" Rani pulled away momentarily to flirt. She then undid the front of his jacket, running her hands over his muscled chest that hid below his thin undershirt.

They continued to kiss, Carth unbinding her curls from her ponytail and hiking up the skirt of her simple gown to touch her thighs.

It was in this compromised position that Trentyn and Mical found them in.

Tren merely stared in openmouthed horror at the scene. Mical cleared his throat loudly. 

It was enough to get Rani's attention, and once she saw her brother and her respected friend, she was so flustered that she tripped as she hurried to get off of Carth and fell right to the floor. Admiral was also surprised by the intrusion and hurried to cover his lap with a cushion.

"Aw, man! Did you have to do that here? The bedroom is right there!" Tren said, pointing at the nearby door.

"That's another reason to activate HK—to warn us about intruders," Carth said moodily to Rani, while helping her up.

"Hi, Mical!" Rani said, trying to regain her dignity while smoothing out her gown.

Mical gave Rani an embarrassed, but sympathetic smile.

"So, Tren, what was so important that you came barging in here?" Rani said, giving her younger brother a death stare.

"I was just going to tell you not to expect me, Atton, or Han back tonight, we're taking Mical here to _The Orbiting Star_ to blow off some steam," Tren answered, careful not to meet Carth's or Rani's eyes.

"Blow off steam? Mical, do you even drink?" Rani questioned.

"No, I—" Mical began before Tren interrupted him.

"Our good doctor here just needs some relaxing. And who better to show him how to have a good time than me, Atton, and Han?"

Rani looked just as dubious as Mical did, but she didn't say anything more. In fact, a night out may help the brokenhearted man to be, at the very least, distracted from his sorrows.

Rani turned to Carth, who was now able to remove the cushion from his lap. He was standing now, and his jacket was also closed again.

She approached him, leaning in and whispering quietly as she fixed his hair. "Carth, I need a favor. Could you please go with them?"

Admiral Onasi did not look like he wanted to go and watch over the rambunctious men, but Mical was his friend, and it was probably a good idea for him to be there to make sure they didn't get themselves into trouble.

"All right, beautiful," he conceded.

"Don't worry," Rani said when she saw the disappointed look on his face, "I'll make it up to you later."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Indy gritted her teeth as she gently prodded the clay artifact in front of her. In her mind, she was determined to activate the holocron, but her heart was not letting her focus. She kept reliving the moment that Han had kissed her. She was so used to hating him for leaving that she was finding it hard to completely forget that feeling.

It had all been a ruse, to keep her from missing the man she loved, but slowly as the lie was exposed, her defenses were crumbling away. She loved Han, and this whole thing was stupid.

"Indy, just go out there and tell him that you love him and that you've thought of him everyday since the day you though he abandoned you," she said to herself. The words helped to increase her slipping courage, and she left the dark artifact on the desk.

When she came out into the common room, the only person there was Rani. She was rubbing her eyes and rustling through papers.

"Hey, where'd everyone go?" Indy asked Rani casually.

"Oh, Evy's still at the hospital; I think she's on the night shift. And the guys all went to the cantina, some sort of Guy's Night Out, thing," Rani explained shrugging.

Indy's courage completely left her as she heard the news. There was no way she was going to the cantina to profess her love in front of all the other guys, especially in front of Tren too.

"Hey, are you hungry?" Rani asked, her eyes brightening with hope. Indy felt slightly guilty; she hadn't seen her friends since the Battle of Dantooine, and even now that she had access to them, she was keeping her distance.

Indy's stomach growled loudly. "I guess there's my answer," she said laughing.

Rani joined in the laughter that both women sorely needed.

"So, I didn't know you knew how to cook," Indy asked, conversationally.

"I don't," Rani said, laughing.

---------------------------

The five men strode into _The Orbiting Star_. It was a good-sized cantina, with numerous Pazaak tables, a fully stocked bar, and a great Bith band with a troupe of attractive Twi'lek dancers. Both Tren and Atton involuntarily checked out the dancers before sitting down at the bar.

"So, Mical, what's your poison?" Han asked as he offered to pay for the first round of drinks.

"Poison?" Mical asked, as he pushed a dingy blonde lock out of his face.

"Drink, alcoholic drink! Geesh, you don't get out much, do you?" Atton said.

"We'll have a round of Bantha blasters to start off with, thanks," Tren told the bartender.

As the bartender set a glass in front of each man, Carth eyed his suspiciously. The pink and green substance made strange fizzing and popping noises.

Mical stared at his too, trying not to remember the time Carina had gotten drunk on Kashyyyk and kissed him. Maybe if he shared his love with her that night, she wouldn't have fallen to the dark side, and she would have never died.

"Drink it up, buddy," Atton said, slapping Mical's back.

The doctor really didn't want to be here, doing this, but it was marginally better than stewing in his dark thoughts in his office, unable to sleep.

He closed his eyes, and tipped back the glass, downing it all in a few gulps.

"Whoa, Mical, I never knew you had it in you," Tren said, smiling, before he downed his own drink.

Mical grimaced as the alcoholic beverage burned his throat slightly.

"What next?" Han asked, staring at the array of bottles behind the bar.

"How about a Flameout?" Atton asked, with a devilish smile.

"Good call, man!" Tren exclaimed, downing his drink as soon as the bartender set it down.

Mical didn't even look at the glass this time, he didn't even give himself time to see Carina's pretty face in his mind as he tipped the glass. The liquid set his tongue seemingly on fire, and then when it reached his throat, it felt like it was icing over.

"My call this time," Han called out, his voice already growing rowdier with the company and the strong alcohol. "We'll have a round of Wookiee-wango, double up on the Sullustan gin."

"Not for me," Carth interrupted. "I'll just have a Corellian spiced ale."

Han's eyes brightened a bit at the Admiral's order, as it was his favorite drink, but the goal was to get drunk and quickly, and he couldn't do that on ale.

Trentyn, Atton, and Han alternated ordering strong drinks and shots, and Mical drank every single thing they ordered. It was nice to not have to think. Carth was in a bit of a sour mood, but he nursed his ale, watching the four other men with a hint of amusement.

Tren glanced towards the Twi'lek dancers and noticed one was getting a break. She had skin as turquoise as the oceans of Manaan and had the sculpted yet voluptuous body of a dancer.

"Hey, she looks familiar," Tren said softly as he stared at the beautiful dancer.

"Have you slept with every hot woman in the galaxy?" Atton questioned while sizing her up.

"Almost," Tren joked. "Actually no, she was a friend of my sister's. They both worked in the same cantina on Telos for awhile, I was too young back then."

"You gonna sleep with her?" Atton asked, looking very much like he would like to… well, if he wasn't with Evy.

"Nah, I think I should hook her up with Mical…I'd never give my leftovers to a friend," Tren said.

"Are you insulting Indy?!" Han bellowed, his behavior being influenced by the alcohol.

Tren turned to face Han, who was already standing over him. Carth was there in a flash. Trentyn and Han had argued before, back when they traveled together, and with Indy.

"I never slept with Rheya, Han," Tren said, not backing away from Han's glare.

"Ah, I know, kid. She told me, I just wanted to scare you." Han laughed and Atton and Tren joined in. Surprisingly, Mical let out a string of crazed laughter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"So, what are we doing with the Twi'lek?" Han asked Tren and Atton.

"Her name's Alema, and we're getting Mical laid tonight!" Tren exclaimed.

"Uh, are you sure she'll go for him?" Atton asked.

"Sure, why not? I'm not gay, but I'm comfortable enough with my sexuality to say that Mical is one fine piece of man," Trentyn said.

Han laughed, but looked kind of disturbed, while Carth just shook his head and went back to his ale.

"Have you looked at him lately though? I don't even know the last time he showered," Han said, gesturing to Mical.

"Hey, I don't shower all that much, but the ladies still like me," Atton said with slurred speech.

"Yeah, you really need to work on that, Atton," Tren said. "Anyway, sometimes girls like that, and I happen to know that Alema finds blonde-haired, blue-eyed doctors attractive."

"How would you know that?" Carth asked, unable to stay silent any longer.

"Long story," Tren said, dismissing the question. He was having a hard time looking at the Admiral after seeing the scene with his sister.

Tren sidled up beside Mical, who was leaning over some Juma.

"So, Mical, you interested in some not-so-innocent fun tonight?" Tren asked, winking.

"Uh, Trentyn, you are a nice man and very handsome too, but I do not swing that way, if you catch my drift," Mical replied, his eyes slightly unfocused.

Trentyn laughed. "No, man! You really must be plastered! I meant with a female…"

"After Carina, I do not think I can be with another woman. It was both of our first times, actually, it was our only time ever. Anyhow, she was a Maalraas in bed! Wow, you should have seen how see could move her body. She was very flexible." Mical's eyes had a far-away look in them and he had a ridiculous smile on his face. He was obviously incredibly drunk. Trentyn was surprised that he was still conscious. 

Trentyn overcame his initial shock at Mical's blabbering confessions. It just seemed wrong for Tren to have the images he had in his head of a dead woman.

"If not a _woman_, how about a Twi'lek?" Trentyn conjectured slyly.

Han and Atton came up, urging Mical on. Neither of them could be with the sexy Twi'lek because of the women in their lives, but neither had a problem with living vicariously through Mical.

Mical finally agreed to at least meet Alema, and Tren trotted up to the dancer.

"Hey, Alema? Remember me?" Trentyn asked, throwing her his winning smile.

The Twi'lek gave Tren the regal look that very beautiful women often gave strangers, before she recognized the man.

"Trentyn! Wow! I didn't know you were here! I saw Rani on holovision! I cannot believe she is running for Senator. She was such a good dancer, and knowing her, she will be able to do much for Telos. I am happy for her," Alema said, glowing. She had grown close to Rani in the years they spent sharing a stage.

"Yeah, well, enough about my sister, how are you?"

"I am doing well, same as ever, alive," she said, narrowing her shapely eyes at him. "My, you have grown, Trentyn."

Tren smiled, taking a glance down at the Twi'lek's body, "and you look just as stunning as ever."

Alema took a step towards Trentyn, and his heart jumped a bit at her proximity. He was beginning to have second thoughts about letting Mical have her tonight.

Those thoughts were soon erased as Alema pinched each of Tren's cheeks. "You were always such an adorable little boy!"

Tren stepped back, a bit ruffled.

"Well, what would you say if I told you I am very good friends with a doctor?" Tren questioned, remembering his purpose.

"A doctor?" Alema's eyes widened with excitement. "Does he have golden hair and eyes as blue as the sky of Telos?"

"Uh, yeah. You wanna meet him?"

The Twi'lek was immediately interested and made her way to Mical, swaying her hips seductively on the way there.

"Is that a hydrospanner in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" Alema joked to Mical, staring intently into his eyes.

Mical stared at the Twi'lek, his eyes focusing in and out. At first, he didn't know that even in this state of inebriation he would be able to dally with her, but then, her eyes came into focus. They were the same gorgeous emerald green that Carina's were.

"You have beautiful eyes," he slurred.

"Thank you, so do you," she answered beaming.

"I… thank you…" Mical said grappling for words. He never was good at dealing with women.

Alema stood closer to Mical, her eyes scanning his face. Those eyes on him gave him a giddy feeling.

"Your name is Mical?" she asked.

"Yesh…I mean yash…I mean hash."

Alema laughed. "You are very funny. I think I will just call you Doctor."

"Would you like me to examine you?" he asked, the words coming out before he could stop them. Tren, Atton, and Han were obviously influencing him too much.

"I could show you many places that need your touch," Alena answered, gripping his thighs, then deftly hopping into his lap, straddling him.

Mical held her waist to steady her, worried that she would slip and hurt herself.

"I will not fall, Doctor, my thighs have a good grip," she said, smiling.

"Uh…yesh they do."

"How about another drink, Doctor?"

"Fine would be one more drink… I mean, drink one more fine… would fine on-"

Tren took the cue from Alema and ordered a round of Remote Terminators. 

The bartender stared at Tren, "are you sure?"

Tren smiled, he knew he, Atton and Han could handle it, and Mical needed an edge to lower his inhibitions.

"Yes, sir!"

"All right," the bartender answered, "you want the preprogrammed recipe, or are you gonna go for the random?"

"Go for the random," Tren said confidently.

"Uh, even for him?" the bartender asked his eyes growing wider, jerking his head toward Mical.

"Especially for him," Atton said grinning.

Tren, Han, Atton, Alema, and Mical each took a shot of the risky alcoholic drink.

As soon as they both were finished, Alema swiveled the bar stool around while she was sitting on Mical so that she could rest her back on the bar, her body still intimately close to his. 

She brought her hands up to his hair, stroking it with pleasure.

"Oh, Doctor, your hair, it is so beautiful!" She groaned.

Mical stared at the Twi'lek, who was only inched from him. "You have very nice…" he scanned her body, his eyes falling momentarily on her copious cleavage, "… lekku."

"I just had them waxed. You should touch them, Doctor."

Mical raised his hands to her head tails, stroking them from top to bottom. She shuddered in bliss as his fingers touched her. The headtails were an erogenous zone for Twi'leks.

"Doctor, you must mate with me, I have never met a man as magnificent as you!"

Alema, overcome with desire, leaned forward and planted a kiss right on Mical's lips. Tren, Atton, and Han cheered as Mical returned the kiss, his broken heart and muddled mind taking any form of comfort he could get. Her arms wrapped around Mical tightly, and Mical in turn, held her.

Finally, she pulled away and leaned back against bar.

"Will you mate with me, Mical?"

Mical stared at the stunning Twi'lek, her eyes burning into his. His head swam, and his eyes suddenly lost all focus as he felt himself plunging into darkness. The rest of the men watched, in horror, as Mical blacked out, his face falling neatly into the Twi'lek's cleavage.

"Holy shit, man! We killed him!" Tren exclaimed as he quickly got up from his seat.

"Nah, look at him…he's just sleeping!" Atton said, perhaps a bit more loudly than was appropriate. His drinks were apparently beginning to affect him. "Aw, look at the little guy sleep… he's like a little drunken angel..."

Carth rose from his seat in order to help his friend, ignoring Atton's obscure comment. "Damn it, I knew those Terminators were a bad idea…" 

Han remained seated, looking at the scene before him in utter amusement.

"Guess he can't hold his liquor as well as we thought," he said simply, downing another shot of alcohol.

Atton grinned stupidly, as his words slurred together drunkenly.

"I guess the Terminators terminated him!"

A boisterous laugh issued from the scoundrel, apparently amused by his own joke. He made an attempt at rising from his seat, only to stumble forward, nearly knocking the table over in the process.

Alema seemed rather confused as she stared down at the sleeping doctor lying against her bosom, and Tren carefully removed Mical's head from it's awkward resting place.

"I suppose my appointment with the doctor is cancelled, then?" she said, stating the obvious. The Twi'lek got off of Mical's lap as Tren righted him, and Carth briefly looked over his unconscious form.

"Not unless you want to sleep with a guy who's half-dead…" said Trentyn. "I mean, I understand if you're into that sort of thing, but I'm sure he's a lot more fun when he's conscious."

Alema frowned, looking somewhat disappointed before her vibrant smile returned. 

"Well, you know where to find me if he wants to try this again. I'm in need of a good _examination_…" she said rather seductively.

She leaned in close to Tren as she once again pinched his cheeks, and Tren forced a smile, despite his disappointment at her condescending behavior.

"It was so good to see you again, little Trentyn! Tell Rani that I say hello! And give her my best wishes!"

The Twi'lek made her way back to the other dancers, swaggering her hips back and forth, and Tren couldn't help but become mesmerized by her healthy backside. He eventually snapped out of it, focusing his attention back upon Carth and the unconscious Mical.

"So, how's the good doctor doing?" he asked. "Still drunk out of his mind?"

"He should be fine once he wakes up," said Carth as he effortlessly lifted Mical's slight frame into his arms. "I'm going to get him back to the medical facility so he can get some rest. I think he's had far too much excitement for one evening."

The rest of the men nodded, momentarily pausing as they watched Carth walk out the door with Mical in his arms, before getting back to their night of rowdy fun. After all, there were still three of them…

"Well," started Han, looking at his friends as he leaned back casually in his chair. "Two down, three to go!"

"Yeah, too bad we couldn't get Blondie laid," mused Tren. "But I suppose there's always another day. And we did get him totally wasted!"

The three men nodded in agreement, smiling to themselves as they ordered another round of drinks in celebration of their success. As they downed their alcohol, a few moments of silence passed before Atton produced a Pazaak deck from his jacket pocket. 

"So, who's up for some drunken Pazaak?!"


	5. The Debate

Evy opened the door to her small office and closed it behind her, palming the lock. It had been a long and fairly uneventful day at the medical facility and her shift was finally over. Actually, as she glanced at her wrist chrono, she realized that she had stayed nearly an hour later than her shift had ended, as she performed several menial and somewhat useless tasks. Evy wouldn't admit it to anyone, but part of her was dreading returning home to an empty bed, since Atton was undoubtedly still becoming intoxicated in a bar somewhere…

The nurse let out a sigh as her thoughts once again took a pessimistic turn, and she began to make her way down the hallway. As she turned the corner, she was surprised and somewhat startled to see Admiral Onasi carrying Mical, who hung limply in his arms.

"Oh, Force!" she exclaimed, as she briskly made her way over to Carth and immediately began looking over Mical. "What happened to him?"

"The guys thought it'd be beneficial to have him consume large amounts of alcohol and give him some company of the feminine sort," said Carth somewhat darkly. He apparently disapproved of the men's dealing of such situations, although he felt a tinge of guilt for letting things go so far.

Evy nodded grimly, gently pulling back Mical's eyelids as she flashed a tiny light into them. He seemed to be alright, despite the fact that he was unconscious. He'd probably awaken to a hell of a hangover, though…

"I see… Let's get him into his office."

Carth nodded, as he followed Evy to Mical's newly organized office. Once inside, he lowered Mical onto the sofa so that he was slightly propped, and Evy gathered some medical supplies from the adjacent room. She returned moments later with a damp washcloth and some tonic for when he awakened. Carth watched in silence as Evy held the cloth to Mical's forehead, gently moving some errant strands of hair from his face.

"So, how much did he drink, anyway?" she asked, once she was completely situated.

"About half the alcohol on Telos," Carth joked. Evy gave a slight smile as the Admiral continued. "I didn't know he had it in him… I don't think I've ever seen anybody drink so much so fast. And he had some powerful stuff, too… a flameout, some Wookiee-wangos, and finally a Remote Terminator."

Evy gasped, looking incredulous as her eyes widened. She had never been a fan of the bar scene, but she knew enough about alcoholic beverages to know that Terminators were a potent and potentially harmful beverage to light drinkers. Such were the benefits of dating a scoundrel.

"He _actually_ downed a Remote Terminator?" she asked, shaking her head. "No wonder the poor thing passed out…"

"Yeah, you should've seen it. I could hardly believe it myself."

Carth glanced at the chrono upon the wall, noting that he'd been away from the bar for more than forty minutes. There was no knowing what the rest of the men would be up to… or what trouble they were in, for that matter.

"I should probably get going," he said. "I've gotta get back to the bar to prevent more chaos from ensuing."

Evy nodded in understanding. "Alright, Carth. Make sure to keep those boys in line. Especially Atton. And thanks for bringing Mical back here."

"No problem," said Carth, making his way to the doorway. "I know he's in good hands. You'll take care of him and have him back on his feet in no time."

"Hey, that's what nurses do. See you later, Carth."

"Yep, see you later."

The Admiral left Evy with Mical, and she stayed by his side for several minutes, dabbing the cool cloth upon his feverish head. Eventually, the doctor began to stir slightly as his eyes fluttered open, and his hand immediately came to his aching head as he gave a prolonged moan.

"Hey, Mical…" said Evy gently. "How're you feeling?"

"What happened?" he asked, looking up at her with unfocused eyes.

"You don't remember anything?"

A slightly confused expression passed over the doctor's features, as he tried to recall the events of the last few hours.

"No. Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Well, perhaps that's for the better, then…" Evy stated lightly. "Here, drink this."

Evy produced the small bottle of tonic from her pocket as she aided Mical in sitting upright. His nose wrinkled in distaste as he took the bottle from her, regarding it hesitantly.

"For some reason I don't feel like drinking anything…" he said weakly.

_Well, there's good reason for that._ Evy thought to herself, as she gave a knowing smile.

"Just drink it, Mical. It'll help, I promise."

"Alright…"

Evy watched with satisfaction as Mical drank the tonic, and in a matter of moments he seemed to become more relaxed.

"Feeling any better?"

"Yes, considerably."

The words had scarcely left Mical's mouth before he paled a few shades, looking quite unwell. Evy placed a hand upon his shoulder in a comforting gesture, looking at him with concern.

"Uh oh… Mical, are you going to be alright?"

"I think I'm going to be ill…" he said in a feeble tone of voice. The doctor rose abruptly from his seat, instinctively covering a hand over his mouth. "If you'll please excuse me…"

With amazing speed, Mical made a run for the nearest 'fresher, closing it forcibly behind him. He had scarcely closed the door when the distinct sound of vomiting could be heard. Evy winced, as the unpleasant sounds continued to sound from the 'fresher, and she decided that finding some more tonic might be a wise idea.

It was going to be a long night...

-------------

Admiral Onasi made it back to _The Orbiting Star_. The place was still a flurry of activity, but he could not find Atton, Han, or Trentyn anywhere inside. He adjusted the clasps on his jacket, undoing the top one for comfort. Alema, the attractive Twi'lek dancer was still at the cantina, but she was currently dancing, and Carth knew that it was never a good idea to interrupt the dancers.

Sighing, and resigning himself to the fact that the three men had probably headed elsewhere to cause trouble, Carth made his way to the bar to take care of the tab.

The bartender looked at him expectantly. "What'll you be having, Sir?"

"Nothing, thank you, I'm just here to take care of the bill," the Admiral answered.

"Your friends already took care of it," the barman answered, taking a moment to wipe up a small spill on the counter.

Carth looked slightly stunned for a moment, then pleased. He knew that Trentyn and Atton had played a big role in the Republic's victory at the Battle of Dantooine, and know he'd also recently found out that Han had drawn some of the Sith away from the grassland planet, but Carth still had a hard time trusting the men. After all the things that had happened to him, he had just learned to expect the worst from people. He would have to work on that.

The Admiral thanked the bartender, then turned around to leave the crowded cantina, when out of the corner of his eye, he spotted someone watching him. Carth glanced over in that direction and met the gaze of someone who's eyes looked much like his own.

It was Dustil…

He had changed much since Carth had last seen him on the exploding flagship of Darth Destrik. His dark, almost black, hair fell in waves down to his jaw line. His face was covered with a spattering of dark stubble, for he was still to young to grow a proper beard. Dustil didn't look quite so tall anymore, his back drooped slightly as if he carried a heavy burden upon his shoulders.

Neither father, nor son, knew how long they stood, still as statues in the bustling cantina, staring at one another. A tension hung between them… so much had happened since the bombing of Telos, and each had hurt the other at some point in time.

Finally, a drunken woman fell into Carth, breaking his frozen stance. He took his eyes off of his son for a moment to see who had bumped into him.

"Exsqueeze me, Admiral," the attractive woman drawled as she stood close to Carth.

At first, Carth had found it amusing when women threw themselves at him after his celebrity status was established after the Battle on Dantooine, now he just found it aggravating.

"Excuse me," he replied, brusquely. He walked past the women, in the direction where Dustil had been, only his son wasn't there anymore.

Carth took off out of the nearest door, and he could see Dustil's form disappearing around the corner in the corridor. The Admiral ran after his son, through the maze of corridors in Citadel station. It didn't take too long for Dustil to escape, vanishing in the dark labyrinth. 

Winded and tired, Carth made his way slowly back to his apartment.

The large living area of the apartment was very dim and it smelled faintly of burnt food. Carth stepped hesitantly into the room, squinting in the relative dark.

He ran right into the back of someone, sending them sprawling to the ground.

"Damn it!" Rani cursed loudly. "Atton, I told you to stay put!"

Carth bent down in the darkness to help Rani up.

"Sorry, I can't see anything…"

"Carth? I was worried about you, Evy told me you left the medical center more than an hour ago!"

Rani now stood, and Carth moved closer to her face, seeing her concerned expression.

Loud retching sounded nearby in the refresher. 

"It's Atton…he's thrown up all over the 'fresher," Rani said explaining. "Apparently, they thought it would be fun to have a drinking contest after you left… Han won."

Carth's eyes, now adjusted to the dark, saw Han's form sprawled on the couch.

"You spoke to Evy? Is Mical going to be okay?" Carth asked, worried about his friend.

"He'll be fine by morning. Thank the Force he didn't get alcohol poisoning. Evy's still at the med center, caring for him."

Carth's mind still reeled, from the sight of his son. He didn't want to burden Rani with anything more, her campaign was still going on in full force, but he had to tell her.

He grasped her arms gently but firmly, and pulled her towards him. She seemed slightly distracted, staring at some spot on the floor.

"Rani…"

That caught her attention. Carth used her name on rare occasions, and usually only when he has something serious to tell her.

"At the cantina, I saw D—"

"Can I get a towel?" Atton asked, teetering in the doorway to the 'fresher.

Rani pulled away to attend to Atton, while Carth ran his hands through his hair in a frustrated gesture. He had hoped that after the Battle, he and Rani would have some time alone, some time just to be with one another. Rani had jumped into the race for Senate, and Carth had also found himself busy dealing with managing and leading the Restoration of Telos.

Carth started walking across the room, intending on activating the cleaning droid. No doubt the 'fresher was a complete mess after the way Atton was getting sick in there. But, before he could get there, he tripped over something on the ground. He managed to roll and regain his feet quite quickly, but his knee would probably have a nasty bruise.

Aggravated, Carth activated the lights, revealing Trentyn curled up in the middle of the floor. Carth was so irritated, he wanted to kick Tren, and maybe would have if Rani hadn't come out of the 'fresher with Atton. The slim scoundrel had on what appeared to be a pair of Carth's pajama pants, and his hair was wet. Rani sat Atton down on the other couch and started drying his hair with a towel.

"Did you give him a shower?!" Carth asked.

Atton looked immensely pleased with himself even if he was a bit green in the cheeks.

"Of course not! He just needed some clean clothes and a towel, and he can barely walk on his own." Rani answered.

"What is your brother doing laying in the middle of the room?!"

Rani stopped patting off Atton's hair and tossed the towel off to the side, with obvious frustration.

"He's piss drunk Carth! He passed out there! I can't move him on my own! Indy's shut in her room! They pissed her off when they came back!"

"See, this is why people shouldn't settle down… they start to argue about stupid things. Can I holorecord this for Evy?" Atton said, curling up on the couch.

Rani looked furious for a moment, but then her expression softened.

"Can you just help me carry him to the room?" she asked Carth.

He nodded, and wordlessly lifted Tren on his own and put him on the bed in the spare bedroom. When he came back, Han was still snoring loudly on one couch, while Atton laid on the other.

"Where'd Rani go?"

"She stormed off into the bedroom… who knows what's into women lately. Hey, at least you aren't stuck out here in your underwear," Atton said, his voice thick with inebriation.

Carth sighed and went to the door, surprised to find it unlocked. Rani was curled up in the bed, her back turned to him. He would tell her about Dustil later, for now, she had enough stress. He stripped to his underwear, and slid in between the sheets behind her. He touched her arm gently, not expecting her to respond, but she did. She turned around and snuggled herself in his arms, her face against his chest. Not long after, with his strong arms around her, Rani fell asleep, her breaths deep and regular. But the Admiral would find no rest, instead, thinking about the son he had already lost twice… he didn't know if he could bear to lose Dustil again…

----------------

Each day brought a new lesson. Of the seven basic forms of lightsaber combat, Kavar taught her only the ones that she needed. Despite her pestering to learn more, the grumpy teacher merely stated that it would require years of more training to master the more acrobatic maneuvers, such as Ataru, which he likened to dance-fighting.

Carina showed proficiency in every lesson but she didn't allow it to go to her head, knowing she had a lot more work to do before she could really be proud of her accomplishments. Kavar was generous with his praise; he often complimented her on how well she picked up what he taught her, but she could also sense thinly-veiled fear lingering in his thoughts—the source of which she was unsure. She'd have to quiz him later to find out what he was so afraid of.

One day, she was in the training chamber with Kavar practicing Makashi—saber to saber combat. Kavar had stripped himself of his robes down to a pair of sparring sweat pants and a tank top. Carina was dressed similarly, and her hair was tied in a thick ponytail.

The room itself was expansive, which Carina had utilized to the best of her ability. Aside from a row of weapons and assorted artillery items, a few resource crates stacked up as makeshift tables in the back corner. Across one of the tables, both of their Jedi robes were draped.

Kavar stood before her in an offensive stance, the blue-green glow of his lightsaber cast to life as he thumbed the activation button. Carina had been given a real lightsaber this time, not a prop, but she was reticent to use it. Her thumb flickered over the switch and suddenly the hollow metal encasing felt like a two-ton weight in her hands.

Kavar launched at her, initiating a carefully orchestrated "enemy attack." Carina responded merely by bringing her saber up to deflect the blow, but the force of the muscular master's weight against her caused her to topple to the ground. She quickly recovered by gripping her saber and using the force of her next swing to propel her to her feet.

"Good," the master said. "The Force should guide your movements to be fluid, easier. Don't rely on your strength alone."

They matched each other counter for counter. Carina held her own against the Jedi master, initiating a series of parries, thrusts, counterattacks, and small, precise cuts—most of which missed Kavar. He had been unlucky once, though, when the saber cut a small incision in one of his pants.

Carina grimaced at the near-miss. Because of his teacher status, she didn't want to seriously hurt or injure him in any way, but the passion with which he fought compelled her to give it her all. He didn't reprimand her, either. A short, curt nod of the head told her his approval had been won.

"Again," he said, resuming an attack stance.

The tedium of the past few days' training dissolved when Carina had engaged the master in a real attack situation. She preferred hands-on training to studying technique. Which was exactly what she'd been relegated to when Kavar ordered her to check out several holodisks in the Jedi Archive three days previously. For once, she was excited about her training. And with that excitement, a newfound respect and admiration for her teacher was beginning to build.

"Now, come at me," Kavar said, one hand on his slim hip. His breathing was slightly labored by the exercise.

Carina attacked and defended with minimal effort. Though she and Kavar weren't yet evenly matched in their abilities, she was fast advancing. The Jedi master seemed to be aware of this, too. _Maybe that's the root cause of his fear?_ Carina wondered as the man caught her off-guards, tripping her in an effort to disarm her. It worked.

She lay spread-eagled on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and the blue-black stars she saw floating above her head.

"A worthy try, Padawan," Kavar said, bending over her to make sure she was all right. Carina blinked twice and Kavar's double-image was gone. She sat up slowly, touching a hand to her aching head.

"Your efforts are notable, though your concentration could use more work," Kavar said, deactivating his saber as he walked across the room to where their robes were folded. He was tall and very physically fit—another of his "occupational hazards" from being a Jedi, Carina assumed. His broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, perfectly framed by the tight-fitting workout pants he was wearing. Carina couldn't help but let her eyes momentarily wander briefly over his hard body.

He tugged on his robes effortlessly, and when he turned around to face Carina, his tunic was untied, and the undershirt skimmed his athletic, well-formed frame. She couldn't concentrate on what she was supposed to be doing because of the snug undershirt stretching tightly on his frame.

"You've done well. With a little more training, I think you can advance to the next level. Next, we will learn variants and sub-styles. Some of these were developed for personal use from the basic combat forms, and others evolved over time."

"Today?" Carina groaned. Kavar eyed her sharply.

"Yes, today. Why, Padawan, is there something else you'd rather be doing?"

"No, master."

"Good. Follow me."

She paced after the tall Jedi master through the halls, which were flooded with students, and into the Room of a Thousand Fountains. The room was peaceful and serene as they entered together, the only sound being that of the bubbling fountains. The artificial environment projected reality to a certain degree—there was an abundance of homegrown plant life as well as a few alien visitors, such as dwarf nunas. Carina raised an eyebrow.

"What are we doing?"

"Learning to adapt to different situations and places," Kavar said as he moved through the grasses. Carina was caressed by a light breeze, but she couldn't divine where the wind source was coming from.

"You'll not always have the luxury of fighting your battles in perfect silence and relaxation. Many times, there will be other sentients around and other factors that may influence how you do or do not fight your battle. It is how you deal with these factors that will determine the outcome of your fight."

Carina was confused at the same time as being excited to finally have her first taste of a real battle. Kavar walked with her through the grassy marsh and into a wide-open field just beyond the fountains. Carina was amazed that they were even still in the building. The room seemed so expansive, tumbling out into verdant fields and plains. But there were no fields in Coruscant, only cities littering the entire face of the planet.

Carina walked with the Jedi master in total silence up a steep incline. She looked out over the plain and saw a Kath Hound pack running under some trees in the distance.

_Incredible_, she thought upon surveying the landscape.

Two of the Kath Hounds from the pack had strayed apart from the others and were standing alone under the tree. Carina watched the rogue bull Kath Hound entangle his horns with the other and begin a long pull to freedom. Their horns interlocked, the two Kath Hounds struggled aggressively against one another for what seemed like hours. The smaller, orange one—a female—looked like she was trying to lash the bull to ribbons with her horns. All at once, their horns disengaged and the bull Kath Hound romped excitedly behind the other, frisking her with his horns.

"Master Kavar," Carina said, "why are those Kath Hounds fighting?"

The master blushed deep crimson at her pointed question and put one hand on his belt as he glanced sidelong at his Padawan.

"They're mating, Carina."

She was so flustered by his response that she didn't even think to address the fact that he had called her by the same name as the Zabrak. The master seemed to share her sense of embarrassment. They stood in absolute silence for a few moments more, before Kavar guided her back toward the fountains.

"Sit," he ordered her, moving to his knees. Carina followed suit, closing her eyes in preparation for meditation. She peeked an eye open at the still form of Kavar, who looked like he was in total concentration.

"Eyes closed, Padawan," he said without looking at her.

Carina deliberately projected inappropriate emotions during meditation, her mind being fully consumed by what she had just seen. The master didn't quite know how to explain the kath hound incident to her without blushing and retreating back into his high-ranking status as a shield against his discomfiture. He seemed equally unsettled by the direction of her thoughts during meditation.

"Your mind is not where it should be," he merely remarked, sensing her infatuation with the moment that had passed. Carina couldn't keep her mind from returning to the sight of Kavar dressing his slim, slender body. The thought was so potent she was sure Kavar could read it.

She wiped a drop of sweat from her nose. Kavar might have been as stubborn as a ronto when it came to indoctrinating her with all sorts of Jedi thoughts and propaganda, but he also looked dn good in tight pants and a shirt.

"We'll try this again when you're better able to focus," the master said after a few more unsuccessful tempts for Carina to try and concentrate. She blushed a deep shade of red and stood up, trying to recite the words of the Jedi Code to calm herself down. At the door to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, Kavar parted with the simple order for her to wash up and join him at dinner.

In her surprise at the mixed emotions she felt stirring inside of her, Carina had forgotten to ask him about the name by which he had called her. She paced down the halls, headed toward her chambers, when she stumbled upon the same Zabrak from a few days before, repairing a broken door.

"Hi!" she said jovially in greeting. Kevan abandoned what he was doing to talk to her.

"Hello. How are you?"

Carina leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest to disguise the fact that she was sweating bullets.

"Oh, good, you know, just coming back from a bit of training with Master Kavar."

The response she got from the Zabrak was not one she had anticipated. He immediately set aside the hydrospanner he was working with and tugged back the cowl that obscured his face from her vision. Carina gave a little gasp of surprise when she saw the horns that crowned his head and the thick, black stream of hair gathered into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

"You surprised or something?" Kevan remarked.

"I'm sorry, it's just—" Carina croaked meekly. "I've—I've never _seen_ someone like you before."

He chuckled with a hint of irony, but it was a mirthless laugh.

"That so?"

"Look, I don't mean to bother you while you're working, but do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Sure," the Zabrak said, returning to fiddling with the door's faulty mechanisms. It was obvious that the work wasn't satisfying to him, but at least the pay was good.

"You called me by a name before. You remember?"

The Zabrak kept his eyes trained on the door, wondering whether or not he should tell her. He didn't know what was going on in the Jedi Temple, but the fact that Carina lived meant that the Council had some hidden designs in mind. He worried what those might be if they employed the use of a former Sith lord.

"Yes, it was Carina."

"How'd you know that?"

He shrugged.

"Just heard it somewhere. Some of the students were passing by and they called you by that name."

"I didn't hear them," Carina said expectantly.

"Look, I'm trying to work, and it'd best be served if I had some silence. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, sure. I didn't mean to bother you. Sorry."

"It's okay."

She tried walking away, but she didn't get far.

"You know, do you ever get the feeling that people are trying to deliberately push you away, like they know something that they don't want to tell you?" she postulated while watching the Padawans skip in twos and threes to dinner.

"I suppose so."

"Yeah, well, my master. You don't know him, but he's pretty important. Or at least he likes to _think_ he is," she said with a hint of scorn. When Kevan didn't respond, she continued with, "Yeah, well, I think there's things he knows about me but he's not telling. Like my name. He called me by a name today—I think it was the same one that you said. I wish I knew what it was."

"A name's just a name," Kevan said cryptically, dismantling the door entirely. He scrounged through a box of working parts and began reconstructing it from the bottom up.

"Yeah, but I don't like not having one."

"Maybe you should talk to him about this, then."

"Yeah, maybe I should," Carina responded, heartened by his suggestion. "Yeah, thanks. I'll leave you to your work now. Didn't mean to intrude."

As Carina walked away, a slight skip in her step, the Zabrak replied silently with, "You didn't."

It was not his business to meddle in the affairs of the Jedi, but he knew every wall and every corridor like the back of his hand. Working here part-time had its little perks. He would discover, through stealth if necessary, what the Jedi were up to—and why they had resurrected Carina from the dead.

Things had been better when she was in her grave, Kevan thought tiredly. _At least then she wasn't a Republic nuisance. At least then she finally was at peace.  
_  
But to be so rudely awoken from that peace—who could have done it? Kevan just might have to seek out this Master Kavar and learn all he could from watching his every move and listening to him speak. There was something that was going on, and he didn't like it.

-------------

When Carth woke up, Rani was already in the 'fresher. He could hear the waters pulsing in the next room and a slight singsong voice humming a pleasant little tune. He ran a tired hand through his mussed hair in an attempt to straighten it.

The night before was still fresh in his mind. The stink of the cantina, the pungent smell of the ale, Dustil's more mature appearance. A smile tugged at the corners of Carth's mouth. Dustil had grown his hair out and grown into his lanky body. He was a little stockier, but not pudgy. Even though it was painfully apparent the boy hadn't showered in a few days, Carth couldn't have been prouder of his son. His attempt to greet him was thwarted when Dustil fled the scene, bruising his father's already fragile ego.

Carth wiped a hand over his eyes, getting up to tug on a shirt and some pants. He did a couple of pushups to get his adrenaline to kick in. The increased endorphins also reinforced his desire to go and tell Rani about the run-in the night before. He went up to the door and tapped with the back of his hand against it. In another moment, the sounds from the shower turned off and he heard some scuffling around behind the door.

"What is it, Carth?" she asked with annoyance. Her schedule was all sorted out for her for the next few months. She had meetings with her campaign manager, the local news, the Ithorians, and Czerka, followed by more interviews and public appearances to drum up support for her stint as senator. She didn't have time to be detained by Carth—though that thought saddened her.

"I need to talk to you. Open up."

The door swished open, and Rani was wearing nothing but a small towel. Her dark hair was matted down to her shoulders, and small rivulets of water ran down her forehead. Carth couldn't keep his eyes from giving her a once-over. Rani smirked and leaned against the door.

"Eyes up here," she reminded him.

"Right, sorry—" Carth said, feeling flustered.

"So what was it you needed to tell me?"

"Last night, at the cantina—"

"Is this about Tren? Look, I know he's a pain, but he's my brother. Couldn't you two _try_ to get along?"

"No," Carth said, shaking his head, "I saw Dustil."

Rani froze, her mouth widened in a tiny "o" of surprise.

"Oh, I—I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"No, how could you?"

"Do you want to tell me, Carth?" she asked, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm. Carth nodded as he led her over to the bed and sat her down.

"He was at the cantina, and I just ran into him."

"What did he say?" Rani pressed him.

"Nothing. We just locked eyes across the room. Then, when I looked—he was gone. I tried to follow him but I couldn't." Carth paused with a sigh. "I don't know why he was running from me. I never gave him cause to."

"It's all right, Carth, I'm sure he's still around here somewhere. He's bound to show up. We'll find him."

"I've told myself that every day for the last four months, and still it hasn't happened," Carth said accusatorily.

"Look, I'm sure he's just nervous. You are his father, and he wants to make the right impression on you."

"One hell of an impression to be making by running away."

Rani crouched in front of Carth, between his knees, one hand on each of his kneecaps as she gazed into his eyes.

"Don't be so hard on him. He's just a kid."

Carth's face brightened at the mention of this.

"No, he's not just a kid anymore. He's a man. He looks…grown up. I couldn't be prouder." His face fell again. "I just wish he would speak to me."

"Give him time, Carth. He'll come around."

"I suppose you're right," Carth said huskily, his voice and throat all scratchy from sleeping too long.

"I'm right about a lot of other things, too," Rani said seductively, moving in closer to capture his mouth in a kiss.

"That so? Like what?"

"How about this," she said, moving her lips over his again.

Her hand moved playfully in between his legs, causing Carth's eyes to bulge with momentary surprise. Then, when he grew more relaxed to the rhythm of her hand, he melted into the kiss and pulled her closer.

A harried knock came at the door. Rani immediately broke apart from Carth, causing him to groan.

"That'll be Ce-Ira-Mundi," she said, bounding over to the 'fresher to don a quick set of clothes before answering the door. Sure enough, the Cerean stood there and reprimanded her for missing her first meeting. After shutting the door, Rani ran over and proceeded to get dressed in a long gown and fix her hair up in curls.

"I gotta go. He's absolutely livid."

Carth's finger traced over the messed up bed sheets. He was beginning to miss Rani with the sheer number of commitments she'd signed on for.

"You know, we never get to see each other anymore."

"We're seeing each other now!" Rani said with a laugh as she laced up a dainty pair of shoes that seemed too uncomfortable to walk in.

"That's not what I mean."

Another sharp knock sounded at the door, and Rani bolted to get it, but not before grabbing Carth under the chin and turning his face to hers for a kiss.

"Later, I promise. And then we'll spend all the time together you want."

He nodded, simply mouthing the word "fine" as Rani scurried away to her team of handlers and the scores and scores of political commitments that awaited.

-------------

Ce-Ira-Mundi impatiently shuttled Rani from her apartment to her speaking engagement. The Cerean babbled on about the importance of keeping her appointments while Rani largely ignored his mindless drivel. In the air taxi, Rani caught wind of a holonews report being displayed on the overhead monitor. A well-groomed newswoman stared back at her as she recited the words on her sheet.

"…And in other news, Rani Taraster, who has been campaigning for a senatorial position on Telos and has contributed to part of the Restoration Effort, has found herself in hot water. It was lately uncovered that Ms. Taraster has had dealings in the past with former Sith lord Carina, who is believed to have perished in the battle of Malachor V almost four months ago. While Ms. Taraster was not immediately available for comment, her handlers questioned the nature of the claim and repeatedly rebuked reporters for implicating her in a situation they described as 'completely aberrant and false.' More on this news story as it develops."

Rani hadn't noticed that her fists had balled up at her sides, the knuckles colored stark white. She wanted to wring her hands around the woman's neck for delivering such an incriminating report that vilified her former friend. Carina had been a good person before her fall, and now she was treated as merely another news item to gossip about. She should have expected as much going into this field of work. It wasn't like cantina dancing or medical nursing—it was much, much dirtier, and the stakes were raised.

"Czerka planted that," Rani said, curling her lip with disgust. "I'm sure of it. They've just stooped to a new low. First me, now my friend. I wish they'd just leave them all alone."

"Ms. Taraster," the flabbergasted Cerean replied, handing a small datapad to her with her speech encrypted in it. "It is to be expected. It is just another hitch in your campaign, but you can't let slander affect you. Do you think that if Jana Lorso allowed slander to affect her, she'd be where she is today?"

Rani stared out the window, too lost in her dismal thoughts to respond. She took a look over her speech.

"Speaking of Jana Lorso, have you even prepared my debate?"

"It's all in there, Ms. Taraster," the Cerean replied. "I suggest you study it in the time you have left. You don't want to look bad on the public platform."

"You're right," Rani replied, rifling through the small datapad to retrieve the speech the Cerean had prepared for her. "I want to see this done properly. If Czerka gets their hands on it, we'll never get the funding, and all expenses will be cut…"

"Which is why it's important that you win this debate today," the Cerean chimed in with a note of concern. Rani rubbed her eyes sleepily and opened the datapad to begin studying the items. Despite the comfort of Carth's arms, she hadn't been able to sleep all night, partially due to the fact that she knew she'd have to deliver this speech today. It was merely part and parcel of the whole package, and Telos was counting on her.

The air taxi stopped and deposited its passengers on the upper-east end of Citadel Station. Rani got out and straightened her dress, giving a tug to the neckline to make it minutely more demure—which was just the kind of appearance she needed to project. Rani passed the local cantina, hearing the dull hum of jizz-wailer music spill out into the corridors of the station. For a moment, she was sorely tempted to go in and indulge in a round or two of Corellian ale. But the sight of Ce-Ira-Mundi's stern face prevented her from following that thought to fruition.

Rani arrived at the stage in downtown Citadel Station just in time. A small crowd was gathering to watch the debate, and her eyes scanned the faces to see if Carth was among them. He had promised her he would come to watch her speak, and he always kept his promises.

Rani cleared her throat, going over her speech in her mind before determining all the possible angles Lorso could try and take to defame her and besmirch her cause. Her heart was beating so loudly she could hardly hear herself think. The Cerean's writing was pleasant enough to read and sufficiently analytical, but it wasn't her. They were just words on a datapad. Her speech needed to be more heartfelt, to connect with the audience, to win them over to her cause. That was one vital element that Ce-Ira-Mundi had grossly overlooked.

While repeating the datapad's words like a mantra, Rani noticed the crowd part for a big group of aliens. Chodo Habat, the famed Ithorian priest and holy man, led a solemn procession up the podium with a few of his friends in tow, including Moza, his primary representative and account manager. The gentle Ithorian walked straight up to Rani and greeted her civilly.

"Greetings, Ms. Taraster," the Ithorian said, his voice a low, pleasant drawl. Rani couldn't help be mesmerized by the Ithorians. They had endured so much and still never once given up hope that their efforts to restore Telos wouldn't be overlooked. She felt a strong sense of purpose fighting for them.

"Hello, Chodo."

"I viewed your recent news report," the Ithorian continued, blinking, "but I have to say that it doesn't lend itself to any amount of credibility. Their sources were slim, at best. Lorso is a snake. She'll stop at nothing to see your name smeared, as will all of Czerka."

Rani nodded, heartened by the compassion the Ithorian was showing her. She had spent a great deal of time working in concert with the Ithorians on the project, and her efforts hadn't been overlooked. Though he appeared sedate, Chodo was actually very happy to see her.

"Watch yourself," he cautioned her. She wondered if his warning was spawned by the recent attacks on his life—attacks that had happened in broad daylight in Citadel Station's entertainment module.

"I will."

The Ithorians went and were seated in the front row of the crowd to her left side. Jana Lorso and her Czerka staff entered a few minutes later, and Rani watched them walk up with pure loathing. Among them were Lorso's thugs and part of the TSF police force, Mona Caine—also called "Caine" by her friends and admirers—and Cody, a veteran of the wars who had turned to guard duty when the pay proved to be too good to turn down. Their celebrity status coupled with Lorso's position as head of Czerka was what won them primo seats in the front of the row, opposite the Ithorians. As they passed Rani, she noticed Caine glaring in her direction, her one trademark red eye sparkling at her as she sneered. Lorso assumed her spot on the opposite side of the podium, but not before walking over to Rani to give her the obligatory greeting.

"You're looking nice today." As she said this, she swung seductively in Rani's direction so that nobody could hear what they were saying.

"If you think you're flattery's going to get you places, Jana, then you're sadly mistaken," Rani whispered with clenched teeth. "I saw your little news report. And believe me, no amount of bad press is going to stop me."

"We'll just see about that," Lorso said, enjoying the idea of a challenge. "For now, let's just try and keep up appearances, okay? You pretend that you like me, and I'll pretend that I'm not out to see you back in that seedy cantina, where you belong."

Rani closed her eyes at the scathing exchange of words, but she let the momentary wave of discomfort pass over her. When she was recovered from the verbal assault, she said,

"We'll see."

A man called Jan Poteka, who served as officiate and sometime-arbiter for the debate, walked up to the podium. The sight of him settled the crowd, and the noise grew to a more manageable level. Rani kept her hands folded in her lap, faithfully watching Lorso out of the corner of her eye.

As the proceedings began, she let her eyes scan the crowd for any sign of Carth. She was bored by the formalities of how politics were conducted, so she was only half-conscious of what Poteka was actually saying. Most debates were fairly formulaic, so she was sure she hadn't missed much when Poteka finally extended a hand to introduce the opponents.

"…And over here, we have Jana Lorso, head of Czerka Corporation here at Citadel Station." His hand folded out in Rani's direction. "And to my right is Ms. Rani Taraster, Telosian senatorial candidate. Both Ms. Lorso and Ms. Taraster will be speaking to you today about the funding of the Telos Restoration Effort. First, a statement from each of the opponents. Ms. Lorso, five minutes."

The Mirialan female collected a small datapad of information and approached the podium, clearing her throat. She had let her black hair down from its tight ponytail, which framed and softened her face. She had even shed her normal shirt-and-slacks combo for a softer look—a dress. As she began to speak, Rani felt her heart sink. The woman projected a charismatic aura that made her very likeable, especially to the Telosian audience who understood little about politics and couldn't care, either. All they wanted was a friendly face and a slick promise that everything would be better in the future. Lorso certainly exuded enough likeability for the both of them, though it was often said that behind closed doors, not even Lorso's own employees could stand her. She wondered if Caine and Cody, who sat looking very bored in the front row, were among that category.

Rani suddenly grew very nervous. How was she ever going to drum up support for her campaign if she couldn't even convince a crowd that she was capable enough to handle this project?

She needed Carth. He was her support pillar during rough times, and this was, by far, the worst of it.

As if in answer to her prayers, she suddenly noticed the handsome pilot sitting in the fourth row from the back. When he noticed her looking in his direction, he raised his thumb up and gave her a wink, mouthing a quick "hi, gorgeous," for reassurance.

"For those of you who don't me, allow me to introduce myself," Lorso said, exuding an air of confidence. "I am Jana Lorso, chief executive of the Telos IV Citadel Station Czerka branch. I'm looking out here and I see some familiar faces. But one thing you might not be familiar with is my stance on the restoration project. Now, for most of us, the restoration project offers us more than just housing and shelter—it offers us _hope_. Hope for a better life—for ourselves and our children. Friends, why delay any longer? Czerka is ready to offer you just that. Thank you."

As Lorso retreated from the podium, it was Rani's turn to assume the stand. As she passed the other woman, she felt a shoulder jab into her hard. Rani discreetly clutched her arm and couldn't help but feel she had partially earned that for treading so close to the walking time bomb herself.

Rani hooked her foot up on the small step ladder, using it to push herself up to her full height. The lights were blinding, and she tried not to stare into them as she spoke. She could feel herself sweating, but just knowing that Carth was there in the audience comforted her.

Rani licked her lips and put the datapad in front of her to begin reciting what her manager had written out for her. Then, on a spur of the moment decision, Rani decided against it and pocketed the small datapad. Somewhere, she could hear an audible groan—probably from Ce-Ira-Mundi.

"I'm not going to stand up here and give you a list of reasons to like me, or try and appeal to your emotions. I'm going to give you cold, hard facts. Fact: What Czerka Corporation is offering is a short-term remedy to the problem. Sure, they've pledged a healthy sum to aid in the rebuilding of Telos' atmosphere, but what they don't want you to know is that they have no plans to continue offering relief and aid in the future. As soon as they've done the minimum, they will retract their remaining funds and leave Telos to founder. Now, is that what I want? No," she said, summoning up courage the more she continued speaking. "What I want is to see a healthy Telos, a Telos reminiscent of the one before the war, before the devastation. That can only be accomplished by government funding, _which is the reason why we are here_." As she said this, she looked accusatorily at Lorso. "Not to give some sad boo-hoo story, or to tell you that it's all going to be okay, because it isn't if we don't accomplish our mission. The reason we are here is to ensure that the proper amount of funds are transferred to the project to make sure that it is a success. Thank you."

She left the podium feeling slightly heartened by the scant round of applause she received from the audience, which far outweighed any praise that Lorso got for her speech.

"Ah, Ms. Taraster," Poteka said with an uncomfortable laugh, "getting right to the debate, are you?"

Several rounds of verbal sparring later, Lorso was once again up at the podium, pitching her position to the captive audience while Rani listened desperately for anything to tear down her argument. Lorso had so carefully constructed her attack that it was nearly impossible for Rani to find the angle she needed.

"If we get the contract for it, I propose that we pour increased funds into the restoration project," Lorso explained, one arm balanced on the podium as she spoke emphatically, driving her point home by hammering her fist down every so often. "With these increased funds, technologically advanced machinery would be developed by our engineers that would feed the planet the necessities while we get everything else in order."

"So, let me understand," Rani replied, shooting to her feet fast enough to almost let the datapad topple from her lap. "You don't want to _heal_ anything. What you're proposing is concrete and machines. You don't desire to restore the planet's natural beauty at all, you just want to make it functional?"

"Now you're putting words in my mouth, Ms. Taraster."

"No, I don't think I am, Ms. Lorso. Please explain what you mean by your use of technologically advanced machinery."

"Well, I will explain it to you since you asked," Lorso replied snippily. "The Ithorians, while their efforts are notable, are taking far too long and using far too many expenses to fully restore Telos' ecosystem and heal this planet. We can do the same thing using less time and less money. So, you see, the solution is cost-effective."

"But temporary," Rani chimed in. "What you're proposing isn't restoration, it's gentrification. With the gentrification of the Telos' deteriorated surface will come the displacement of lower-income families. One little oversight in your planning."

"Now hold on just a minute," Lorso said, "I never said we would evict people from their homes. I said we would do it the way we see fit. By adding technology to the mix, we can get the job done faster and use less time and resources in so doing. The Ithorians are wasting valuable money that could be better spent on getting families situated in their new homes. Think about it."

"I have, and I think you're wrong."

"Well, ladies, this certainly has been a rousing debate. We will now take a ten minute recess," Poteka intervened, wresting control of the podium to momentarily cease their chattering. As he announced this, the crowd dispersed for conversation and some refreshments provided by Czerka.

_They're even trying to manipulate them with food_, Rani thought bitterly, wondering how she would ever win this contract for funding. Maybe she should've appealed to their stomachs, too. Her reverie was interrupted by the feeling of two arms snaking around her waist and a scruffy pair of whiskers brushing up against her cheek in a greeting kiss.

"Carth!" she said, spinning around in surprise.

"I saw you up there, gorgeous, and I had to come congratulate you."

She smiled sweetly at the pilot, putting both arms around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. Kissing Carth made all of her troubles go away. When they finally broke apart after a rowdy youth shouted "get a room!" Carth looked a little flustered.

"What'd you think of my speech? Was it too much?"

"Whoa, settle down, gorgeous. Don't get yourself in a twist over it," he said with a seductive smile. "I wouldn't worry about Jana Lorso. I think she'll be retracting her bid over this contract anytime soon. You just can't be beat when you're up there."

He pulled her closer by the waist.

"That so?" she queried, giggling as he stole another kiss. Carth smiled and looked up over her head, and was shocked to see a familiar face in the audience. Rani gazed curiously at him.

"Force, Carth, what is it? You look as pale as a ghost!"

"Dustil," was all he said as Rani peered over her shoulder. Sure enough, the sullen youth was sitting all the way in the back row of the crowd, drumming both hands impatiently against his knees. His hair was longer and he looked more mature, but he was still the same Dustil.

"Go say something to him."

"I can't!" Carth stammered. "I don't want him to run again."

"Don't let the chance escape you," Rani ordered him. He absentmindedly ran a thumb across her jaw line, not really thinking about what he was doing. His mind was focused entirely on his son.

"You're right. I'm going now."

She watched him walk over to the young boy. They exchanged words, but neither one of them looked happy. Carth spoke emphatically with his hands, and Dustil had his arms crossed, absolutely rejecting any attempt to try and connect with what his father was saying. Dustil turned and walked right away from his father. Carth merely stared at Rani as the lights came down again, signalling the debate was about to pick up again.

In a few short minutes, they were back to arguing. Lorso kept arguing her point, and the repeated promise of using up less time and money on the project was finally beginning to take hold with the audience.

_Yeah, too bad she doesn't mention her and Czerka's crimes_, Rani thought bitterly. It was so obvious that the criminal organization had been doing dirty work on Telos, yet no one, not even the local government, sought to reign them in. They were just too big and too powerful, with branches stretching from Telos, to Tatooine, all the way to the main quarters on Korriban. The galaxy-wide criminal organization had grown in scope since its inception, and now it was unstoppable. But that didn't mean Rani couldn't at least try and stop them from spreading corruption everywhere they went.

She continued searching her datapad for anything she could use against Czerka. Her eyes skimmed over a factoid of information that was her key to winning this debate. She smiled brilliantly. _Oh, Ce-Ira-Mundi, you clever old fossil…_ she thought while gazing over the very interesting article of news. Despite the Cerean's grating, annoying habits, he was at least in possession of a moderate amount of intelligence to have dug up this tantalizing little bit of information. She would certainly use it to fuel her fire now.

When Lorso finished speaking, Rani took the podium with an aura of supreme confidence. She knew exactly what she had to do and how she was going to approach it.

"While Ms. Lorso makes an excellent point that less time and resources might be beneficial to the Telos Restoration Effort, I believe Czerka is incapable of fulfilling such a promise. It has recently come to my attention that the recent attempts on Chodo Habat's life and the lives of his Ithorians—a peace-loving people—have been tied to mercenaries hired, it would seem, by Ms. Lorso." Rani turned to the other woman. "How would you answer those charges?"

Lorso looked offended.

"This is a debate, not a hearing. Those accusations are unfounded."

"As are the ones linking me to a Sith lord," Rani lied, feeling guilty.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do."

"Ladies, please," Poteka said in an effort to mediate the argument. "We are straying off-topic here…"

"All Czerka will want is to annex the Ithorians' restoration zones for their own profit. Money and greed is what drives them. If you award a contract to such a money-mongering corporation, you're asking for trouble."

Her eyes locked with Lorso as Poteka said, "And that's all the time we have for now! Thank you for coming out and supporting your local candidates."

The crowd departed, leaving the two women standing alone. Even Poteka cleared the stage, sensing the imminent danger. Caine and Cody lingered near, unloading their munitions in case a blaster fight broke out.

"You've won the debate, but this isn't over," Lorso said in hushed tones, her shoulder pressed intimately up against hers, her breath rank and warm in her face. The Mirialan turned on her heel and stormed away, followed by her two thugs, Caine and Cody, and the rest of the embassy. Rani felt a chill involuntarily creep up her spine, but it was banished when she saw her pilot walking forlornly toward her. Her victory was short-lived. She had over problems to deal with now.

"Dustil," he said quietly.

"I know. Let's go find him, Carth."


	6. Entertainment Module Meeting

As the bright room came into focus, Tren let out a loud groan. His head was throbbing, and he wanted nothing more than to turn over and go back to sleep. He tried to do just that, but the light streaming through the window was only making his hangover worse. He pulled his arm up to his face to see his wrist chrono. It was already very late morning.

Finally, gathering his willpower, Trentyn swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. He rubbed his temples as he glanced down at himself. He was still fully dressed, and he had woken up alone, so that was a good sign…or a bad one, depending on how you looked at it.

Trudging into the living area, Tren found Atton lounging on the couch, shirtless and with orange pajama bottoms on.

"Dude, what's up with the ugly pajamas?" Tren asked. Atton looked about as bad as Tren felt.

"They aren't mine, they are the _admiral's_," Atton replied, squeezing his head with his hands.

"Republic let you wear his clothes?! He must like you more than he likes me…" Tren said with obvious disappointment. He didn't need the approval of everyone, but he did want to at least be on good terms with the man that was in love with his sister.

"Yeah, right. Actually, Rani gave them to me."

Trentyn felt mildly jealous as he thought of his sister helping Atton while he was drunk. Rani was his sister, and she was supposed to take care of _him_… Tren shook away the petulant thought.

"Where's everyone else?" Tren asked, searching through a cabinet for any tonic to help the terrible throbbing in his head and the turning of his stomach.

"Well, Rani and Carth left earlier this morning, and Indy left soon after on some errand. She wanted to go alone, but Han insisted that he go with her. You should have seen the fight, it was hilarious. He kept calling her "kid" and she kept yelling and saying she could take care of herself."

"Ah, Rheya's always hated people helping her… probably has something to do with how many people have hurt her in her life…" Tren looked distant.

Atton cleared his throat. He and Tren were great friends and didn't hide much from one another, so he didn't hesitate too long to ask the question that was on his mind.

"Are you all right with Indy and Han being… you know…" Atton asked, unsure how to phrase the question. Although, Han and Indy weren't technically _together_, it was easy for everyone to see the feelings that existed between them.

Trentyn finally found a suitable tonic and tossed one of the small bottles to Atton, before he downed one himself.

"Han's better for Rheya," Tren admitted, not saying anything else on the matter. He was used to loving and moving on.

"Where's your beautiful future wife?" Tren asked.

"Don't call her that…" Atton groaned.

"Oh come on buddy, you're not like me… you love Evy, she's the woman of your dreams, and you know you want to be with her, so what's the problem?"

"The problem is that things like marriage mess things up… we're happy now, so why change it?" Atton said, more of a statement than a question.

"Look, I'm not the person to be talking to about marriage, but maybe you should think about it, if only to make her happy," Tren advised. He truly cared about Evy, and even though Atton was his best friend, if he ever really hurt Evy, Atton would have hell to pay.

Atton stared at his friend with his dark and tired eyes.

"Evy's in her bedroom, sleeping. She was up with Mical all night."

Tren nodded and started towards her room, but was blocked by Atton, who had jumped off the couch with amazing speed.

"She's sleeping, man, just let her sleep…she needs it," Atton told him.

Trentyn pulled back only because Atton was sincere and made a good point. He'd just have to ask about the whereabouts of Bastila later. For now, he would content himself with a nice, long, hot shower to help ease away the aches of the previous night.

------------------------

Igrayne felt like tearing her hair out. She and Bao-Dur's meeting with Chodo Habat had been most enlightening, and now both of them were aware of just how delicate the situation on Telos was. Czerka had even hired mercenaries to kill the Ithorians.

After hearing the about the Ithorians' troubles at every turn with Czerka, Bao's hate of the company was only fueled. Igrayne too found herself having stronger feelings about how the Restoration Effort should be run. The Ithorians made sense, and they truly wanted to see Telos restored to her former beauty, while Czerka seemed only interested in the money that could be made off the planet. After Igrayne and Bao's meeting with the Ithorians, they had all went to watch the debate.

Now, they headed back to Mical's apartment at a brisk pace, Igrayne leading slightly. After seeing Rani and Carth talking intently, they had decided no to interrupt them, and to hold off their congratulations for later.

Igrayne's mind worked to control her angry thoughts. She was a Jedi, and Jedi were not supposed to get so emotional. She had been happy to see Rani win the debate though, and Igrayne had felt only slightly disturbed at her glee after seeing her friend beat Jana Lorso on stage.

Without warning, Bao grabbed her and swung her around, bringing her close to him. Her heart leapt in her chest. Bao-Dur rarely handled her like that… at least not in public. A coy smile met her lips until she saw Bao's expression of concern.

"What's wrong?" She whispered to him, staring into his deep eyes.

"I feel like… like something bad is going to happen," he replied. His eyes met hers, but still he seemed like his mind was not in the present.

Igrayne opened her mind to try and read the Force. There was a slight darkness, as if a threat was just borne.

"I feel it too," Igrayne answered. She stayed facing Bao, but scanned the corridor behind him.

Bao-Dur let Igrayne out of his grasp, and his hand brushed his lightsaber at his belt, a sign that he took the threat seriously.

"I think we should get in touch with the Council, let them know how the meeting with the Ithorians went."

Igrayne nodded her agreement as they headed off to Mical's.

-----------------------------

Trentyn checked himself out in the mirror one last time before finally leaving the apartment. While Atton had found it unnecessary to shower or change after their long night, Tren always felt the need to be groomed. He had left Atton in the apartment anyway to go over their lists and see how many of their men they had gotten in touch with. Also, they needed to find a new base of operations, and Tren was finding it more and more convenient to set up shop in Citadel Station.

He headed towards the housing office, intending on seeing what apartments were available for lease Before Tren could make it there, he got a strange feeling. He wasn't always attuned to the Force, but once and a while, something would grab his attention. This time, the object of his attention was a robed and hooded figure. The figure would have been inconspicuous if not for the warning that Trentyn had received from the Force.

As casually as he could, he followed the figure. It seemed to Tren that the gait of the hooded person was masculine, but the frame was small, so he wasn't sure of the gender. The last time he'd followed someone so skillfully was when he met that sexy woman with the boyfriend on steroids…

Despite his short attention span, Trentyn was able to be intent enough not to lose the figure he was following, and he was stealthy enough to not garner the person's attention either. Once they both entered the module that housed the Ithorians office, Tren spotted Bastila. He froze and hid behind the tree in front of him, one of many that grew down the center of the large room.

He watched her absorbedly, as she sat on a bench in front of one of the large trees. She looked normal, except for the fact that her head was bowed low, as if she were crying. Trenytn felt a lurch of sympathy and a desire to comfort her. She pushed her long bangs out of her face and tucked them behind her ear, as she quickly wiped away a few tears that had managed to escape the prison of her eyes. She looked so beautiful there, real emotions showing on her face.

Before Tren could forget about the mysterious figure he had been watching, he saw the person walk unobtrusively by the bench that Bastila sat at. If Tren had not been paying attention, he wouldn't have noticed the tiny pause in the figure's stride as it passed by Bastila. Trentyn wasted no time as he sprinted down the long room. His heartbeats raced as he screamed each passing second in his mind. It was likely he had only a few to save Bastila.

Trentyn covered the last few feet between him and Bastila, jerking her up off the bench and throwing her as hard as he could down the hallway. Then, he ran and jumped after her, shielding her body with his own as he landed on her right as the explosion of the small bomb sent the splintered remains of the bench in every direction, and blew a chunk out of a tree, sending the enormous thing toppling.

The force of the explosion caused Tren to black out, his body hunched over Bastila's.

When he finally awoke, it was to a familiar face.

---------------

When they entered Mical's apartment, the young doctor was busy straightening some of his personal effects. He welcomed them in, and they prepared to transmit a message via his holotransmitter. Igrayne sat down, making herself more comfortable as Bao-Dur prepared their report.

"Were the debate and the meeting with Chobot Habat a success?" Mical asked from the next room, where it was apparent he was washing up. He gargled a few times and spat in the sink. Igrayne was quite grateful she didn't have to endure the combined odors of him and Atton any longer.

"Yes," Igrayne replied shortly, cutting off any response he had planned. Bao-Dur programmed some numbers into the transmitter, and the screen flickered to life. On the other end of it, Master Vrook's face stared back at them.

"Igrayne," he said pleasantly. She could almost detect a note of happiness in the gruff master's voice, which he disguised thereafter with a brusque cough. "You've prepared your report?"

"Yes, master. The dealings with the Ithorians are progressing smoothly. From our meeting with Habat, I was able to conclude that our assistance is greatly needed in this effort, and also that Czerka has hired mercenaries to kill the Ithorians. Thankfully, the deal's gone sour for the time being."

"This is unfortunate news," Vrook said with a sigh. "Still, something must be done about it. I shall send along Master Zhar and a few more of my knights to Telos, where they will assist you in keeping peace and order there. Czerka can't be allowed to continue as they are…"

"I agree," Igrayne said with a nod. Master Vrook licked his lips and stared complacently into the screen.

"There is something else I must speak with you about."

"What is it, Master?"

Vrook inclined his head regally toward her.

"The Council has decided it is your time, Igrayne."

"My time?"

"You are ready to undertake the duties and responsibilities of Jedi knight. As your master, I have determined this. You've repeatedly taken the initiative to seek out information and report back to the Council on all of Czerka's doings. You should be commended; your efforts are not in vain."

Her hand settled on her new lightsaber; he would be so pleased to learn she had crafted one already.

"Thank you master," Igrayne said, bowing her head slightly because she didn't know how else to react to this surprising news.

His transmission was being interrupted by a line of static feed.

"Master Vrook?" Igrayne asked, shaking the piece of equipment. "Master Vrook, are you still there? Blast it!"

She put down the transmitter and looked to Bao-Dur, who was already standing by the door, his hand still on the hilt of his lightsaber.

"We need to get back to Coruscant. The masters are expecting you."

"Yes," she said almost sadly. "They are."

Though the title of knight had initially brought her much happiness, she knew it meant an entirely new set of responsibilities came along with it. She wasn't excited to hear what those are, but Bao-Dur seemed supportive of her promotion.

They said their goodbyes to Mical with a promise that they would return following the short advancement ceremony, and set off toward the hangar bay. Ships were in short supply, so they signed for a small vessel just big enough to transport the two of them to Coruscant. As they filed into the tiny vessel, Igrayne sent a sad glance back at the green-gold marshes of Telos, the last remaining vestige of plant life on the wasteland planet.

"We will return soon," Bao-Dur said reassuringly to assuage her fears. He could sense when she was sad even without her having to express it. "We have business to attend first."

"Yes, we do."

She flicked the switch to seal the doors for landing and Bao-Dur propelled the tiny vessel into the vast space above Telos's eroding atmosphere.

--------------

Hours later, they dropped out of hyperspace and reverted into real space. Igrayne felt like she was going to be sick. She touched a hand to her upset stomach, watching the encroaching planet of Coruscant draw closer with each passing moment.

_Home at last_, she thought ironically. Though the Jedi Temple should have been like a second home to her, she felt more comfortable on Telos. She had adjusted to the pace of life there, which was much slower than the busy city-planet. All the activity made her head buzz.

Bao-Dur landed the ship on the platform outside of the Jedi Temple, and they were greeted by Master Dorak's Padawan learner, who opened the docking hatch and proceeded to lead them through the temple. Igrayne looked around, amazed at the spacious, winding halls. She'd forgotten just how huge the temple really was--and rightly so, for it housed some of the galaxy's oldest-known documents and datapads in the extensive Jedi Archives.

As they were being conducted to their quarters for the night, Igrayne tried to pivot her hips so that her new lightsaber stood out on her utility belt. No comment was made on it, however.

They walked past a technician fixing a door, and Bao-Dur had to call out a greeting to their guide to stop for a moment while he crept up upon the other creature.

"Kevan?" he queried, his voice and tone very quiet despite his curiosity. The other Zabrak male turned around and smiled at the sight of both of them.

"Bao-Dur...General. It's good to see you two."

"What are you doing here, Kevan?"

The Zabrak made no attempt to hide the hydrospanner or the menial labor stint he was doing, though Igrayne knew from firsthand experience that he had an incredible amount of pride. She knew such work wasn't satisfying to him.

"Fixing whatever needs fixing. I've taken a few jobs with the Jedi since my discharge."

Igrayne's heart sunk slightly. Though it had been an amicable discharge—they said he was too old to perform the necessary duties and tasks as a soldier—Kevan was still sorely hurt by it. She could sense such things even without reaching out to use the Force.

"It is good to see you again, my friend," Bao-Dur said, clasping his hand. Kevan didn't seem to share his sense of enthusiasm, probably due to his embarrassment at having been discovered in such a position.

"And you," Kevan said. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he was hesitant...

"Come on, I haven't got all day!" the Padawan learner complained. Igrayne pointed a finger at him.

"Settle down, young one."

"Something's troubling you," Bao-Dur noted. He had spent so many years serving under Kevan, it wasn't hard to read him. "What is it, Kevan?"

The Zabrak cast a quick glance around the crowded halls of the temple, which were flooded with students returning from their classes with the Jedi masters.

"Carina. She lives."

Igrayne's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"What?"

"She's alive, and she is _here_."

Igrayne chuckled hollowly.

"Kevan, I don't understand. Carina's _dead_. She died at Malachor."

"That's what they want you to think," Kevan whispered. "She's alive, but she is unaware of her identity. Her mind is...no longer her own."

"What do you mean?"

"She is being trained by another. A master who sits on the Jedi Council."

"Who?"

Kevan looked uneasily around him.

"I've said too much already."

"Who, Kevan?" Igrayne pressed. If she knew the name of the Jedi master, perhaps she could quiz him about this..._anomaly_ in their stories. Carina was dead, and they'd already carried out a service in her memory.

"I cannot say."

Their Padawan learner was growing more impatient by the minute, so Igrayne and Bao-Dur said goodbye to Kevan for the time being and followed the itching youth down the hallway toward a spare bedroom the temple kept for visitors.

"Here you go," the youth said after depositing them in the room. It was spacious, with a large window overlooking Coruscant's busy downtown market sector, and a large bed with white sheets and a canopy. Igrayne was somewhat surprised they'd given her the suite usually reserved for royalty of some kind. She was Kuati royalty, but that didn't count here.

"Try to get some sleep," Bao-Dur urged her. "You've got a long day tomorrow."

She did just that, curling up in the pillows and blankets for a quick catnap while Bao-Dur disappeared to some unknown place. When she woke up in the morning, he was just re-entering the suite.

"I spoke again with Kevan. He seems to think that this _master_ may have plans in mind for Carina."

"You don't believe him, do you?"

"Don't you?" The Zabrak stared at her for a long time with his deep, brown eyes. They were so warm and inviting.

"I'm having a little bit of difficulty trying to wrap my mind around this concept," Igrayne confessed somewhat sarcastically. "Carina's _dead_. End of story. I don't want to go around opening up old wounds."

"Does it make the pain easier to deal with?"

She knew she wasn't the only one affected by Carina's death, that the Zabrak had, in his own way, grieved for her. But she didn't want to believe it was true. It complicated things.

She turned away from him, moving toward the 'fresher. The news of Carina made her want to be sick, but at the same time, she wanted to go scouting out the area and see if there was any truth to the rumor. She didn't want to be too impulsive, though. If Carina was alive, the Jedi were certainly going to keep it under wraps as much as possible.

She took a shower and quickly got dressed in her new Jedi robes, attaching the new lightsaber to her utility belt before uttering a quick "bye" to Bao-Dur and exiting the apartment. She'd bypassed the ornate dress she'd made for special functions in lieu of the more appropriate Jedi robes, which were brown with some scant ornamentation. She walked down the halls searching for the ceremonial room, which Vrook had given her directions to the night before.

After a few unsuccessful attempts and walking in on classes loaded with young Padawan learners, she found the room. Most of the masters, with the exception of Zhar, who was now headed for Telos, sat in a large circle. The room had a domed-shaped ceiling that opened to emit light and air into it. Igrayne sucked deeply of the fresh scent, bringing the oxygen into her lungs.

Vrook beckoned her forth, and she knelt before him, both hands laced over her one knee. The old master said a few words in Basic to start the ceremony, and the others raised and ignited their lightsabers. The deafening hum assaulted her ears as she sat there under their scrutiny.

She felt so proud of her accomplishment, and yet heavy with the news that Carina might still be alive. The ceremony passed without a hitch, but her mind was so preoccupied that she scarcely had time to enjoy it.

When Vrook declared that she rise and join them, however, all thoughts of Carina were put to rest. Igrayne suddenly smiled cheerily at them, feeling her heart swell with pride. She was now thoroughly enjoying the feeling of accomplishment her new rank brought her.

"Your new lightsaber," Vrook commented afterward, as they walked out of the room in twos. "Excellent."

She allowed him to pick it up and feel the weight of it in his hands.

"Thank you, master," she said before clipping it back onto her belt.

"You have earned this, Igrayne. It has been a long time coming, but you have proven yourself worthy of the rank."

Igrayne lowered her head in a short, happy bow. She was glad the ceremony was over. She was itching to get out of her stifling robes and into more comfortable clothes or a dress. She walked back toward the apartment with a slight skip in her step, feeling happy as a result of her advancement.

----------------

Caine glanced at Cody, stationed on the other side of Jana Lorso's office doorway, deep in the heart of Czerka Headquarters, Telos branch. Even with his orange and white helmet completely hiding his face, Caine knew he was as bored as she was. They were soldiers, trained in the art of combat and war, and certainly not meant for guarding a doorway. It wasn't even that nice of a doorway.

Cody's helmet turned slightly, and she knew he had caught her distraction.

"I know," came his static voice through the helmet. "They could have painted it."

"At least," Caine added, smiling, and turned back to attention, very glad that she had Cody around. Yet her smile was short lived, as complete and utter boredom threatened to drive her mad. She had hoped for some excitement at the earlier debate, what with the rising hostility between Czerka Corp and the Ithorians, but was left incredibly disappointed. One would think that with all of Czerka's enemies, there would be at least one person to shoot at as Jana Lorso's personal guard.

Why couldn't there just be a war?

After counting the tiles on the ceiling for the fifth time, Caine looked back toward Cody in total exasperation. She couldn't keep living this way. She was very close to just walking out. "Would it be so horrible if—" she began.

"We wouldn't get paid," Cody replied without waiting for her to finish.

"Do we really need—"

"Yes," Cody said simply.

Caine practically growled in frustration. He was right, of course. They did need the money, and there was a lot of money to be had with this job. Too much to just pass by.

She sighed, momentarily defeated. "Fine," she groaned. "But something better happen soon, or I –"

A single blaster shot sounded from inside the room, rousing the duo to complete alert. They burst through the doors in a hustle, weapons drawn and ready, expecting a fight.

Jana Lorso lowered her blaster and glanced at the two in irritation as they entered. Caine's eyes fell to a heap of a corpse facedown on the floor, a blaster burn in his back. She recognized him, a member of Czerka.

Caine knew Lorso had been in a foul mood after the debate, locking herself in her office, only to speak to some of her most trusted underlings, but this was most unexpected…and unwelcome. There was no denying the Caine and Lorso had never seen eye to eye, particularly in matters involving weaponry misuse, personnel mistreatment, and most bothersome, Lorso's generally unpleasant manner. For someone famed for charisma, Lorso sure was not very personable.

To Caine, shooting someone in the back was just plain rude.

Lorso and Caine exchanged scowls, and Caine could practically feel Cody tense beside her, his blaster still ready, and he, still ready to shoot it. Caine had no doubt his aim was on Lorso. She knew Cody well, and no amount of money was worth hindering their friendship.

"I never told you to come in." Jana Lorso sneered, dropping the blaster on her desk, and took her seat. She broke her eye contact with Caine and shuffled through several papers on her desk, apparently unaware of just how close Cody was to discharging his weapon. "Would you mind taking out that trash as you leave?" Lorso added with the wave of her hand, clearly giving an order over a polite request.

Caine and Cody exchanged glances.

A moment later, they were dragging a body through an empty hallway.

"You have got to be kidding me," Caine muttered, rearranging the shoulders in her arms, trying to get a better grasp of the corpse. "Now, we are reduced to this?"

"Our choices are limited," Cody pointed out, struggling with his hold on the legs.

This time, Caine did growl. The pay was excellent, but hauling dead bodies? Instantly, she dropped it. "I've had it," she announced.

Cody appeared patient, but she knew he was giving her quite a look.

"I think it's about time we have some fun," Caine said with the beginnings of a smirk tugging the edges of her lips.

"What do you have in mind?" Cody questioned slowly, almost nervously.

Not long after, two friends sat in the cantina, a helmet and two blaster rifles on the bar, and a dead man guarding Lorso's office door.

---------------

Her pale hand traced the deep neckline of her dress. For the first time in a while, Igrayne was happy to see her reflection. The full-length mirror showed her entire curvaceous figure. The silken gown hugged her ample bosom and emphasized her rounded hips below her tiny waist. She turned around to see if the dress was as flattering to the other side and was once again pleased.

She struggled to lace up and tie the ribbon that crisscrossed over the small of her back. Igrayne would have called on Bao to help her, but she wanted his first look to be of her in all her glory. Finally, finishing her task, Igrayne narrowed her eyes as she tucked back a few errant strands from her upswept hair. The gown was perfect for her, and the contrast between her brown hair, so dark it was almost black, and her matching eyes, along with her alabaster skin made her appearance in the deep red gown even more striking.

It felt so good to be in such fine and feminine clothes again. For the past few months, Igrayne had little downtime. Her life had been one Jedi mission after the other, and none of them had been glamorous. She wore an ironic smile as she thought about how different her life had become since she had joined the Order. But, it was all worth it. All the sacrifice was bearable to her as long as she had Bao-Dur by her side.

Her preparations complete, Igrayne exited the small dressing room next to the 'fresher, and made her way to the cozy sitting room of their suite. Bao-Dur immediately stood when she entered the room, and by the heated way that his eyes took in her body, Igrayne knew that he certainly liked her appearance. Regaining his gentlemanly manner and his calm composure that was so characteristic of Zabraks, Bao approached her and held out his arm for her to take.

Igrayne had been slightly disappointed that he said nothing and did even less to show his appreciation, but the disappointment quickly vanished when she realized that they were going to be able to go out and celebrate her ascension to Jedi Knight.

Bao-Dur led her through the building and all the way down to the surface of Coruscant. They walked slowly through the city, and Igrayne was overwhelmed by the sights around her. She had not really spent much time on the planet, and every time she had been here before, she had not had the time to pay attention to her surroundings. Now it was like sensory overload. The skyscrapers were so high that Igrayne got a slight crick in her neck as she searched for a glimpse of the sky.

"Strange, isn't it? That in order to see the sky of this planet you must be up in it," Bao said, watching her as she saw a sliver of darkening blue in between two of the nearby buildings.

Igrayne smiled as she looked at Bao-Dur. Her heartbeat slowed slightly as she was calmed at the sight of his kind and familiar face. Humans, Twi'leks, Cereans, Duros, Rodians, Sullustans, and Bith all passed by in a blur of unrecognizable faces.

"Yes, this planet certainly is _different_," she responded, tightening her grip on his offered forearm.

Bao wore a brand new robe for the occasion, and he smoothed it down absentmindedly with his free hand as he scanned their surroundings.

"Look around you, Igrayne. All there is here is metal and machine. This is a dead world." Bao's words were surprisingly emphatic, and Igrayne could tell that something was bothering him.

"That bothers you," she stated, leaning into his sturdy frame slightly as they walked.

"This planet has its purpose, but how can one ever focus in such a place? The Force flows through all things, but living things bring the Force to life. Planets such as Dantooine and Telos, those are the ones that speak to my heart."

Igrayne smiled as Bao-Dur spoke. Their Force bond made it easier for him to express himself to her.

"Telos was a beautiful planet," Igrayne offered.

"Yes," Bao said, getting a wistful glint in his intense eyes, "it was. I always found great peace walking on the surface of Telos."

"I have full confidence in Chodo. The Ithorians will restore Telos." Igrayne declared.

"Yes, it is important that we don't let Czerka get control of the project," Bao said. Igrayne could feel his body stiffening beside her as he said it.

"The Council is sending more Jedi, Masters even, and if Rani wins the election, then Czerka will have little chance of taking over." Igrayne was sure that they would be able to handle the situation.

Apparently, Bao didn't share her confidence, as he lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. "We must be vigilant. I fear there is more behind Czerka than we are aware of."

Igrayne's brow was creased in thought as she absorbed the Zabrak's words of warning. Before she could respond, she felt her dress loosen slightly. She pulled her arm away from Bao-Dur and stopped to feel the back of her dress. The ribbon had come undone.

Wordlessly, Bao pulled Igrayne into a dark and fairly secluded corner after seeing her struggle with the slippery ribbon.

"Let me do it," he said softly as he turned her around to tie it for her.

Igrayne tried not to shiver with pleasure as the Zabrak's hands brushed her back with his nimble movements. He must have noticed her enjoyment at the touch, however, and he slowed down as he gently worked at his simple task. He stood closer to her, pulling her further into the dim area, and dipping his head lower to see the ends of the ribbon. Igrayne could feel his warm breaths on the sensitive skin of her neck.

When he was done, Igrayne found herself faintly crestfallen, until Bao turned her around to face him with his strong hands.

"I am most at peace when I am with you," he said simply.

Igrayne was touched at Bao's sentiment. Though she never doubted that he loved her, she still enjoyed hearing it, though those were rare occasions when he told her… he was very good at _showing_ his love, however, and he began to do that. He hand moved to her chin, which he held gently, bringing her willing lips to his. He kept a slight distance between their bodies, almost as if he were purposely holding back.

Igrayne allowed him to taste her lips, and his kiss was caressing. Even the tiniest touch from Bao could set her aflame. It was like he transmitted energy to her through their bodies. Igrayne was desperate to deepen the kiss, to feel the comforting sensation of his exploring tongue in her mouth, but Bao resisted. Her body was awakened, but her mind was upset. Why wasn't he giving her what she wanted?

He must have sensed her exasperation, because he ended the kiss. His hand stayed on her chin, and he stared deep into her eyes.

"Not here," he stated simply, and Igrayne could see that his hesitation was only for her benefit. He did not want someone spotting them in a precarious position now that she held an important rank in the Order. And it was likely that once they started to enjoy the pleasures that they could share together, they would not be able to stop, no matter where they were.

Igrayne tried to control her trembling as Bao led her through back towards the building that contained their suite. His arm held her around her shoulders in a protective yet intimate manner, and she hoped that he was not too distracted by her excited shaking. Igrayne didn't even pay attention to where they were going or to all the hubbub around them. The noise of the city seemed silenced by the rapid beats of her heart.

It seemed like forever before they finally made it into the privacy of their suite. Igrayne hurriedly pulled off her dainty shoes, before Bao-Dur swept her up in his muscular arms. He walked right through the sitting room and into the romantic bedroom. He let her down right beside the beautiful, white-canopied bed. Her mouth was soon enraptured by her lover's. He freely used his tongue now, stroking her entire mouth with his passionate movements.

Igrayne leaned against his hard figure, sculpted from years of tough labor and training. Her feminine curves contrasted the firm lines of his body, and together, they were a harmonious match. As he ravaged her mouth, Igrayne moved her hands up his forearms, one was solid with muscle and the other was cool metal. Once she reached his upper arms, both now were warm flesh, and she continued up to his horns. There, she stroked them softly, then more insistently as her excitement increased.

She pressed her body against him, as her need peaked suddenly. Igrayne was pleased to feel Bao's ready flesh under his robes. Bao-Dur snaked his arms around her small waist, and found the ribbon that was laced up her back. He deftly untied it and began loosening it. Soon, he tossed the ribbon to the side, and put his hands under her gown in the back. His touch sent electrifying streams dancing through her body.

He kept his hands inside of her gown, his kiss growing gentler for the moment. He moved them around inside her bodice towards the front of her body. When his calloused hands met her bosom, he cupped her tenderly, and his lips pulled away from her mouth.

Igrayne felt flushed and tried to catch her breath as Bao pulled down her gown to expose her breasts. After he watched the red gown fall gracefully to the floor, Bao's eyes drank in her body. Her perfect, pale skin was almost luminous from the city lights that came through the huge window. Bao reached his hand up to unbind her hair, and it came tumbling down her shoulders in a cascade of dark waves. He stood there for a few moments, cementing the vision of the exquisite view in front of him in his memory.

"I am pleased with you," he said finally. It was a simple statement, but the fervor with which he said it made Igrayne blush.

Noticing her coy demeanor, Bao began to strip off his clothes, and before long he stood in front of her in the same state of total undress. Looking at Bao-Dur's uncovered body was like looking at a masterpiece. His tattoos covered his Spartan-like figure, highlighting his strength and power. Unable to bear keeping distance between them any longer, the Zabrak embraced Igrayne. His hardness pressed against her abdomen as he ran his moistened lips over her neck, and she ached to have him inside of her.

Igrayne's tongue traced his earlobe, before she whispered to him. "Make me yours…"

Up to the challenge, Bao-Dur tossed her petite form onto the cushioned bed. Igrayne was more than ready to receive him now, but he had other plans.

Bao stayed above Igrayne on the bed, using his knees and hands to support him. He started kissing her lips, but didn't linger there long. He moved down her chin, and to her throat, where he stopped to tease her smooth skin with his tongue. Once she began to moan, Bao moved lower. His tongue traced down the hollow of her neck, across her collarbone, and down to her bountiful bosom.

The passion was enveloping Igrayne from the way that Bao was using her entire body. Just when she thought that he could not give her any more pleasure without finally taking her, Bao sat up and kneeled on the bed. In one swift movement, he wrapped his arms around her upper thighs and pulled her pelvis up to his face. Igrayne had to grasp the bed post with both hands to steady herself. With his horns, safely out of the way, the Zabrak pleased her at the apex of her thighs. Igrayne bit her lip at first, trying to quiet her wild moans, but as her lover amplified the efforts, she couldn't even bear to try and contain them.

Quite inflamed with need now, Igrayne took charge, pouncing on the Zabrak and wrapping her legs around his. She wrestled his back down onto the bed, knowing that he yielded a bit to her control. She kissed him roughly, all of her senses fully wrapped up in his touch. She stopped kissing him, and began to run her tongue over his body, tracing the intricate tattoos on his skin. It was like an exhilarating labyrinth, and Igrayne finally made it to the end of the maze.

She did not have the patience that Bao had, and she immediately used her mouth to pleasure him. His response was gratifying to Igrayne, as he took a sharp intake of breath. Bao's heavy breaths quickly grew into grunts. His powerful leg muscles clenched as he tried to contain his pleasure. His hands wandered, one tangling in her silky hair while the other caressed her.

The animalistic need to mate with her grew too strong for Bao-Dur to handle anymore, and he pushed her down onto the bed. Igrayne could see the wild desire in his eyes, and she knew that he saw the same in hers. Igrayne threw back her arms and once again gripped the bed post, her hands gripping as Bao rode her. She could feel her whole body shifting with each heave of the Zabrak's body. Even though his movements were rough, almost violent, he never hurt her. He could sense her feelings through the Force bond they shared, and right now, she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

Igrayne could see the sweat begin to bead on his forehead, and she too could feel the shine on her flushed skin. Igrayne could hear the slight ragged edge to his grunts.

"My turn," she commanded as she out from under him and stood up. She kissed him for a few moments, allowing both of them to catch their breath, before she pushed him forcefully to the floor. She rocked her hips brutally against his. The feeling was so intense, that Igrayne's back arched and her head dipped back. Everything was super sensitive in these moments, and she could feel her hair lapping against her back. As she began to tire, Bao grasped her hips and used the power in his arms to help control and fuel her movements.

With one commanding move, the Zabrak pulled her off of him and stood up. Some of his energy was returned as he flung her back onto the bed. He crawled up with her, and put her on her hands and knees, while he mounted her from behind.

As they continued their frenzied mating, Igrayne's senses began to meld with Bao-Dur's. She could feel what he felt, almost as clearly as she could feel her reponses to him. The Force united their thoughts, feelings, and sensations, and Igrayne could no longer tell where her body ended and his began. The Force connection only served to compound each of their pleasure, and neither wanted it to end. The Force could only sustain them for so long, and Igrayne collapsed, the limits of her physical body threatening to bring an end to their pleasure.

Bao, now tired himself, firmly but tenderly turned Igrayne around so she was facing him. They kissed as they made love. It was slower now, and less frenzied, but there was no decrease in the pleasure they shared with one another. Bao continued his steady rhythm, and eventually, limbs intertwined and throats grunting with extreme satisfaction, they both experienced a sustained climax.

Her tremendous desire was now replaced with satisfaction. Igrayne loved these quiet moments after the culmination of love. There was no doubt in either of their minds that she was his and he was hers.

Once her breath finally returned, Igrayne whispered to Bao-Dur, his body still resting on top of her.

"I feel like I've been yours forever…"

He lifted his exhausted head slightly to look into her eyes and kissed her tenderly.

"You have."

----------------

Trentyn propped himself up in his bed, rubbing his eyes to clear the blurriness that accompanied sleep. He glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings; the white walls, the fluorescent lights, and the acute hygiene all informing him that he was in the Medical Facility on Citadel Station. Finally, he gazed back into the face he awoke to. Evy's hair was slightly ruffled, and she had dark circles under her eyes, evidence of the long night he had recently had in the clinic with Mical. She had woken up and hurried to the clinic earlier, as soon as she heard the news of the explosion.

"Kitten?" Tren queried groggily. "Or did I die and go to heaven?"

Evy just smiled in response to the characteristic remark from Trentyn, as she had heard more than her share of his lines in the last few months.

"Are you feeling all right? You took quite a tumble out there," Evy inquired, standing at Tren's bedside.

"I'm fine…I think. Where's Bastila?" Trentyn suddenly recalled the events of a few hours ago.

"She's fine, she escaped with just a few bumps and bruises. She didn't really need medical attention, but she stuck around anyways, she's been by your bed since you were brought in here." Evy explained. "You're lucky you escaped with only minimal injuries, you absorbed most of the force of the explosion for Bastila. You suffered a concussion from the impact of the explosion, but you can certainly be released soon, after a quick examination, now that you are conscious again."

"Where is she now though? And was that bastard that did it apprehended? Has the TSF investigated?" Trentyn was eager to get out of the confines of the facility, despite a number of bruises that made motion painful.

"Don't worry about it Tren, the TSF is taking care of it, and Bastila should be back soon, she just left for the 'fresher a few moments before you woke," Evy reassured.

"But did they catch the guy?" Tren was getting impatient.

"No, but look, you need to rest a little and stop worrying," Evy instructed, noticing Tren's grimace as he tried to further straighten himself in the bed. "The TSF is doing their best and they are launching an extensive investigation. Initially they suspected Czerka, since it happened by the Ithorian Compound, but now they think someone else maybe involved because the attack was apparently directed at Bastila. Lietenant Grenn reported on the holovision a little while ago and said the TSF would look into the Exchange as well, since they seem to be have a growing interest in Telos. But listen, there's nothing you can do to help them while you're still hurting, so I suggest you take this time to recuperate."

"Is that an order?" Tren asked with a smirk, obviously relaxing a little.

"Yes," replied Evy, playfully poking a small bruise on Tren's firm shoulder. "Bastila should be back soon, and I need to check on a couple other patients, so I trust you can take care of yourself for a short time?"

"I guess, but I'll definitely miss your tender love and care," Tren winked, as Evy smiled and rolled her eyes. He nudged her rear with his elbow as she walked away, although she seemed to ignore it.

Just as Evy walked away, Bastila entered the room and made her way to Tren's bedside. Her eyes brightened as she saw that he was awake, and she softly sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Trentyn, how are you feeling?" Bastila asked, with genuine concern in her voice. Her eyes were red, as if she had been holding back tears for a long time, and she had a row of small bruises down her arm.

"Never been better," Tren remarked sarcastically, although his face registered evident satisfaction at seeing Bastila generally healthy. "What were you doing at the Ithorian Compound? Or better yet, what have you been doing on Telos? I haven't seen you the entire time we've been here, and now someone clearly has a problem with you….what have you been up to?"

"Jedi business," Bastila's concern was momentarily replaced by a distant, guarded look, the only look Trentyn had received from her since their relationship ended.

Trentyn grunted in frustration. "That's always it isn't it? Jedi business…you know you once told me that I didn't care about anyone but myself, but you know what? You're no different, except you only care about your frackin Jedi…I've looked all over Citadel Station for you, and all you have to say to me is 'Jedi business'…"

Bastila didn't back down one bit. "You broke up with me…I thank you for saving my life, but I don't know what else you want from me." Although Bastila still appeared concerned for Trentyn, it was apparent that some bitterness remained.

"At least an explanation! I've only seen you a couple times in several months, and one of those times I nearly witnessed your death. I've missed you, you know? And I don't think you can even comprehend how scared I was when everything registered...I do care about you, at least as a friend."

Trentyn had hit the right notes, as Bastila seemed to let go of some of her distance. "I'm sorry, I guess I have been short with you. I've been helping to monitor the Ithorians' restoration efforts here, and making sure Czerka keeps their distance. Apparently, I have been distracted, however, being unable to sense this latest threat…"

Mical entered, mostly recovered from his recent hangover, although his face retained a slight greenish tint. He greeted Bastila before turning to Tren. "You are looking much better, Trentyn, than you were when we first brought you in here." The doctor gave Tren a quick examination, to make sure all his injuries had been taken care of, before telling him that he was free to leave, with assistance of course.

"Thanks Mical, I guess I owe you a drink," Tren commented, as the two men chuckled at the inside joke.

After the doctor left, Bastila remained by Tren, until Atton and Rani arrived to wheel Trentyn back to the apartment. Bastila said a short goodbye to Tren and left, avoiding the air of bitterness that remained between her and Atton. Rani hugged her brother, despite the groan he emitted, and began helping him into his wheelchair. After a brief conversation with Evy, Atton returned, pushing Trentyn back to the apartment in his wheelchair.

"You look a little banged up, buddy," Atton said, trying to make his friend a little more relaxed.

"Well, flying pieces of wood tend to have that effect," Tren replied, appreciative of his friend's company. "Where's Carth?"

Rani replied, "He saw Dustil and spoke to him during the debate. We were both out looking for him, and Carth's still out there."

"Dustil? He's alive? Are you sure I was only out for a couple hours?" Tren asked. "Well, don't worry about me and Atton keeping it quiet, we're not in the business of handing over ex-Sith for sentencing."

"Actually, we're in the business of hiding ex-Sith from sentencing," Atton chimed in.

"Thanks, guys," Rani replied as the three of them entered the apartment.

---------------

"R9, I need to stretch my legs, keep the _Sunbeam_ on course for Telos IV," Captain John Mithic commanded.

"Beep . Rrrrr"

As Mithic passed the hangar, he heard some shuffling and a faint crashing noise. When he went to investigate the problem, he got a blaster rifle shoved in his stomach. This wasn't intentional; it was the highest his little "visitor" could reach.

"What are you doing?" Mithic shrieked as he noticed his landspeeder in pieces on the ground.

The small, brown cloaked figure proceeded to babble unintelligibly.

"I can't understand you! Follow!" said a completely shocked Mithic, hoping the creature understood him. The creature did as he was told, and followed Mithic back to the bridge where R9 was controlling the ship.

"R9, translate, and provide any information you have on this creature."

"Begin Transmission: Jawa, rodent sentient species residing on Tatooine. These creatures often salvage droids and spare parts to make a living. Jawas live in fortresses deep in the deserts of Tatooine. These fortresses, usually made of broken starships, provide cover from their predators, Krayt Dragons and Tusken Raiders."

"Wonderful. What is our little friend doing on our ship?"

"Me needed to find way to leave Tatooine," said the droid's screen.

"R9, back up the recording to the beginning," Mithic commanded.

"Sand People invade fortress, kill others. They look for me. Me needed—"

"Stop. That's enough. You can come along for now, since I can't just eject you into space," Mithic said reluctantly. _Though it might be a good idea..._ he thought. "Just stay where I can see you. We are approaching Telos IV."

The docking authority directed Mithic to Bay Thirteen, where he easily landed the _Sunbeam_

"R9, come with us this time; we may need you to translate. Be careful; this thing might not be as harmless as he seems."

The Jawa proceeded to punch him in the leg. Ignoring the pain, John Mithic brought the Jawa and R9 to the _Orbiting Star_ cantina.

"No droids in the cantina," the bouncer stated authoritatively.

"No, I believe that rule was changed," Mithic said, using the force to persuade him.

"The rule has been changed, welcome to the _Orbiting Star_," the bouncer responded robotically.

Mithic ordered a spiced ale, and another when he saw the Jawa staring at it. It spat it back out, disgusted, and sat down.

"I saw Jedi magic you used on man. Friz is curious of his new friend," the droid translated instinctively.

"Friz, is that your name?"

"It is, Magic Man."

"My name is John; John Mithic."

"You have two names? Big folk are strange creatures."

"You mean race."

"The next time you think you will correct, do not."

--------------

Caine took another swig of her drink before placing it down on the bar, and continued her detailed conversation with Cody about the hazardous repercussions of demolition work. After telling the story of poor old Sonny One-Leg, who lost his foot in a tragic bridge collapse incident (of his own making, of course), her gaze drifted to an unusual sight at the other end of the cantina. Perhaps the sight would have made more sense had they been stationed on Tatooine, but for Telos, it was quite curious.

"Is that…a Jawa?" Caine asked Cody slowly, motioning to the short hooded creature.

Cody lowered his glass. "It appears so," he replied, equally perplexed.

"Do you think it would be rude to inquire?" Caine began to say, when the man beside the Jawa looked up and over, straight at her. Her mouth instantly snapped shut at the harsh glare she received, and her hand instinctively went for her blaster set of the bar. There was something about that guy sitting there that made Caine uncomfortable, but she couldn't quite place just what it was.

"We'd better go," Cody told her quickly, reattaching his helmet.

"Afraid of a little fight, Commander?" Caine said to her companion, her eyes shifting. She had been mostly teasing, but Cody did not seem amused.

His hand reached out to touch her shoulder softly, unusual for him, and this motion alone let her onto his seriousness. Caine turned to him, giving him her complete attention, mostly from surprise. It had been a long time since he had ever made a motion to touch her, despite their close companionship. It was almost as if he was afraid to, ever since…the day her eye turned red.

"Cody," she began, suddenly very curious of what he was thinking, what he was hiding from her.

"Not today," is all that he said, answering which of her mind's questions, Caine was unsure. He turned toward the exit, walking away from her. Not once did he look back, and Caine would know. She never stopped watching him.

"Commander?" Caine called, not liking his sudden disinterest in her actions. Her hand was tight on the handle of her weapon, her mind screaming at her to do two things at once. A cantina fight on a whim sounded like fun, but Cody was acting strange and was about to leave her. She had to choose between the thrill of battle for no reason and the companionship of an old friend.

"Commander, wait!" She hurried after him, and when she caught up, she noticed in the corner of her eye as his finger slid away from the trigger of his rifle.

So he wasn't about to abandon her, after all. She should have known.

"You intrigue me, Commander," she said, with no reply.

---------------

Jana Lorso stared into the dark face of the hooded figure standing before her desk and then at the paper he had just put into her hands. "I will do as you command," she said submissively, though her eyes held a spark of ever-tempting rebelliousness.

The figure paused for a moment, studying her. "I trust you will send those whom I requested."

"Yes," Lorso replied quickly, desperately hiding her dangerous and questionable thoughts with fast-talking. "The duo will serve this cause well."

"They had better succeed, Lorso," the figure said to her, a chill in his voice. "Or you will be the one to suffer."

"They will," Lorso said with a bow of her head in acknowledgement of the man's seriousness. "And if they don't, I will not be the only one who falls."

-----------------

No sooner had they made it back to their posts at Czerka headquarters than Jana Lorso called them into her office. She seemed snide, as always, but relatively healthy otherwise.

"Pity," Caine whispered to no one in particular.

Lorso sneered but requested no explanation. Seemed she had nothing but business on the brain that day.

"There are certain matters that should have been taken care of easily that are now becoming more troublesome," she began, agitation lining her voice. She held up a plain white piece of paper. "Here is a list of _items_. Find them, and dispose of them. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Caine and Cody replied in unison.

"I trust you will use the utmost discretion in these matters, and will be sure that Czerka cannot be linked."

"Absolutely," Caine said, holding back a smile.

Lorso stared at her for a moment, and then placed the paper faced down at the edge of her desk, which Caine snatched instantly.

"Now go," Lorso commanded, shooing them with a flick of her wrist.

Caine practically ran out the door and cheered, "Finally, I get to shoot something!"

Cody had one hardy laugh, before becoming serious again at an amazing speed. "Finally, indeed. Still, it seems a little strange that we are suddenly called onto this mission, after weeks of watching that dull door."

He was right, but Caine didn't care. "Even if there is treachery, we still get to shoot something!"

She knew Cody was smiling under that bulky helmet of his, despite his better judgment. He certainly was in this with her for the long haul. "So, who is this _item_ we are going to be shooting at?"

Caine looked down at the paper in her hands.

---------------

Her fedora firmly in place, Indy hustled down the corridors of Citadel Station. She was supposed to meet her contact in the entertainment module, but she needed to find a way to ditch Han first.

"The meeting is supposed to be a private one!" Indy swirled around to tell Han, who was not but two steps behind her.

Han ignored her as he kept a cautious hand on his holster at his belt. He looked around as they stood in the large hallway.

"I said, my meeting is a private one! Did you hear me?!" Indy repeated, exasperated.

"I hear ya!" Han finally responded, his intense eyes meeting hers briefly.

Indy placed her hands on her hips and drew herself as tall as she could. "If you heard me, then why aren't you gone?"

"I'm not good at taking commands, kid," he said, throwing her his crooked smile.

Indy looked away, determined to not be swayed by Han's charm. It was hard when every glance from him set her heart aflame.

"Well, how about if I ask then? Leave me alone, Han." She wasn't in the mood to argue with him, her resolve wasn't as strong as it used to be.

"I can't. You are in danger, and I'm not leaving you alone again," he told her. Indy still had her face turned away from Han. She was staring out the huge ceiling to floor windows of the corridor, watching transports and airtaxis fly by, but she could still feel his gaze on her.

"What danger, Han? From your boss? Who do you work for these days, anyway?" Indy finally asked.

"I…I can't tell you," he answered.

Indy finally looked back to Han, watching his expression. They hadn't always had the most open relationship, but the time they had spent together as partners in business, he had little to hide, even if she did. And when they were lovers… then, they hid nothing from one another.

"I see…" she said in mock understanding, while her face mirrored her feelings of absolute frustration.

"It's for your own good, kid," he added.

After a few still moments, Indy made up her mind. She stretched out her body, as if she was releasing her anger, while she took the time to remind Han of the curves that were slightly covered by her clothes. It was enough to get Han's complete attention, as he stopped his vigilant scanning of the area and stared at her, his mouth slightly open.

Snatching her chance at his distraction, Indy walked seductively up to Han, her eyes guarded, but her body garnering all of his attention. She grabbed his collar and pulled his face towards hers as if she were about to bestow him with a passionate kiss. Instead, she stopped her lips breadths away from his and spoke.

"I decide what's for my own good," she whispered, before snatching his prized blaster and throwing it down the hallway.

As anticipated, Han immediately took off after his blaster, and Indy ran in the opposite direction. There was no way she was going to meet with the prior-Sith who promised her information on her "artifact," the holocron, with Han around.

Indy had always been a swift runner, and she easily found an air taxi to take her to her secret meeting.

"Entertainment module, please," Indy instructed the green-skinned, Duros driver.

Indy sat back in the uncomfortable back seat, grinning away at how she outsmarted Han.

_I guess he doesn't know everything about me…_ she thought smugly.

Once Indy made it to the Entertainment Module, she walked around carefully, scanning the area. With such an ancient and potentially powerful artifact, she didn't want to take any chances. The TSF station was in this module, and that gave her a little comfort.

Finally, not seeing any overly suspicious characters and sure that Han hadn't found her, Indy walked briskly towards _The Orbiting Star_. Before she could reach the bustling cantina, she heard a sickening "thwack." Indy stopped suddenly, curious to what the sound was, and she froze as her fedora simultaneously fell off of her head and to the floor in front of her. It was as her body began to fall also that Indy realized that she was hurt, and she blacked out.

When Indy awoke, her head was throbbing and she was in a Force cage. She reached up to feel her head, and was pissed off to find that her fedora was missing. She stood up carefully in the cage, once she was sure she wouldn't pass out again. The room was startlingly white, and it was obvious that this was a holding cell of some kind. She hoped she was still on Telos.

Almost as if on cue, a women and a man walked through the door, and it closed promptly behind them. The man was armored and wore a helmet that hid his features, but the woman looked much more interesting. The most striking thing about her was one red eye, that contrasted sharply with the relatively gentler brown one. She may have been an attractive woman if it wasn't for her scarred eye and evil smirk that transformed her face.

"Where's the holocron of the old, dead guy?" the woman asked, pulling her long, shiny, ebony hair out of the way.

"Not much for small talk, are you?" Indy asked irately.

The woman narrowed her eyes, the eyelid on the damaged eye being less responsive.

"I'm Caine, and you are Rheya Pollard, hero of the Republic," the seemingly dangerous woman stated.

"Oh good, you watch Holovision," Indy retorted, hoping to throw her captors off enough to get information out of them.

"Hardly," Caine answered. "I take little interest in the battles between the Sith and the Republic… as long as I have my entertainment, I don't care."

"How very unselfish of you," Indy replied sarcastically.

"Where's the holocron?" the man finally spoke up, interrupting the exchange of words between the women.

"I have no clue what you are talking about," Indy replied, smoothing down her hair and wishing she had her hat.

"The Sith Holocron, you were bringing it to a contact you made to find out more about it," the armored man said with a blank tone.

"Oh, that Sith Holocron? I don't have it," Indy said, throwing them an infuriating smile. She wasn't lying either. She had left it in her guest room in Carth and Rani's apartment for safekeeping… in case something like this happened.

Caine stood and stared at Indy through the Force cage, before taking a few steps toward a control panel.

_Sithspit! The bitch is going for the truth serum..._ Indy realized.

The door to the holding area swished open just then, and Indy hurried to view what was outside the door to see where she was. Noticing a few of the uniforms of those who passed by, Indy could tell she was being held in the Czerka offices.

_Well, at least I'm still on Telos,_ she thought, her normal cynicism abandoning her for the moment, until she saw who walked in…Han.

"You Logga's man?" Caine asked Han, her dark eyebrows raised in questioning.

Han ignored Indy's silent stares. "Yeah, I see you found the archeologist."

"I'm surprised that Hutt still keeps you around," Caine continued, "she was easy to catch, you should have had her a long time ago."

"Look, I just work in different ways than Czerka's dirty employees do," Han said, his voice taking on a hard edge.

The armored man scoffed while Caine looked faintly amused.

"Different as in slower? I expected much more out of a member of the Exchange," Caine replied.

Indy about blacked out again. Han worked for the Exchange?! No wonder he didn't want to tell her about his employer, Logga the Hutt, a fairly major member of the organization.

"Where's the holocron?" Han asked Caine.

"We searched her, and didn't find anything, and she claims not to have it," the woman answered.

"Give me some time alone with her, I'll figure out where it is," Han ordered.

Caine was rooted to the spot for a few moments, as if contemplating whether or not to hit the scoundrel, but in the end, she headed out, with the armored man close on her heels.

Once the door to the holding cell closed, Indy let out a string of curses.

"You pile of steaming Sithspawn! I know I couldn't trust you! Working for the Exchange now?! I wish you'd just put us both out of our misery and jump into the Sarlacc pit!"

Han sighed and waited for Indy to run out of breath.

"This isn't what it seems like, kid."


	7. Jedi Temple Encounter

"Luthan?"

"Yes, Master Eklipse?"

"Fetch me my newest apprentice, Adamar Ruthyn. I have a special job for him."

"As you wish."

Luthan, Eklipse's first and most loyal apprentice, went to find Adamar in his dorm room. He had been "training" with some of the female students in his room when Luthan interrupted. Adamar was mad at first, but when he realized he had orders from Eklipse, he jumped up and ran to Luthan's side. Luthan walked him to the door of Eklipse' quarters silently.

"Master, I have brought Adamar as you requested."

"Wonderful. You are dismissed; this is a private mission."

"Why was I not chosen for this mission?"

"Leave me with the boy now!"

Luthan hastily retreated, not wanting to upset a Sith lord, or more importantly, his master. He felt very comfortable having his head where it was.

Eklipse gave Adamar his special job in as few words possible. Adamar was ordered to kill Mithic, Eklipse's clone "brother."

"Do not let him convert you; do not let him hold you back."

"Yes, Master Eklipse."

"He is on Telos, Citadel Station to be exact. Telos is a wasteland, and no amount of their pathetic restoration attempts can change it. Once in Citadel Station, track him down and kill him. Be sure to give him the pleasure of dying in front of an audience. Dismissed."

Adamar left the room and immediately headed to the hangar.

"We're goin' to Citadel Station!" the excited Adamar said to his astromech droid.

But deep inside Eklipse's quarters, a very different emotion was being felt at the dispensation of this mission.

"The fool," Eklipse mumbled. "He has no idea what he's getting himself into."

-------------------

Mithic left the cantina after flipping a cred chip to the barkeep. Friz was cautious about prying into Mithic's business, but too curious to keep himself quiet. Mithic and Friz talked briefly about themselves, for they were still mysteries to each other.

"You are of the Jedi, are you not?" Friz questioned.

"I am not. I can use the Force to aid me, but I am no Jedi."

"Yet you wield the magic Jedi sword? Friz doubts his new friend's answer," said a very observant Friz, who had caught a glimpse of it when Mithic sat up off the barstool.

"How did you—how do you even know what they are?"

"Friz has been in many starships, and he has seen Jedi magic in many machines."

"Is it absolutely necessary that you talk like that?"

"Like what, Magic Man? Perhaps words of Jawa do not become big folk words correctly?"

"Perhaps…"

"And, Magic Man, Friz found this on a ship. I am no magic Jedi, so you may take it."

Friz handed him a small lightsaber. It was obviously a short saber, which meant it was small enough so that Friz could wield it if he wanted.

"No, keep it."

"As you wishes."

Mithic didn't even bother correcting him.

Mithic then remembered seeing the two people at the cantina, the ones who were surprised that a Jawa was there. "They left pretty quickly after that. I hope I didn't scare them…"

----------------

Adamar took his ship to Citadel station. He stole this ship from a Republic pilot, as well as R6-S13, his astromech droid. Once he arrived at the station, he asked if people knew of a John Mithic. A few said he was a Republic officer, but that couldn't be right. The Mithic he was looking for was a Force-sensitive.

"I should be able to feel him! Where is he?" Adamar shouted to himself.

He was walking in the entertainment module when he heard, "Who are you looking for?" The voice was obviously Mithic's; his Force senses told him this much.

"I can feel it now; it's you!"

"What's going on?"

"I am Darth Ruthyn, Eklipse's newest apprentice. He sent me to kill you!"

"I sense that you are not too far gone. Come back to the light while you have the chance!"

"He told me you would try to convert me. I won't listen to your Jedi lies! Eklipse said that only the dark side could unleash your true potential!"

"I don't want to kill you."

"Good. I'll, make sure you don't have the pleasure."

By now a large group of people was gathering around the group. They were waiting for a fight. Ruthyn drew his lightsaber and activated it. It was a red-orange light. The glow was very bright, making Mithic squint.

"Do you like it? The crystal was given to me by Eklipse himself!"

Mithic had no choice but to draw his lightsaber as well.

Ruthyn charged and swung his lightsaber at Mithic's head, but Mithic guarded himself. The clash from the lightsabers made a strange silvery gray color, which grew lighter after every attack. Ruthyn sensed his opponent's cockiness and knew he wasn't trying. He got angry and kicked Mithic over, catching him off guard. He pointed his lightsaber at Mithic's throat. Before Ruthyn killed him, Mithic saw a yellow lightsaber blade go through Ruthyn's stomach. He fell over in pain, revealing Friz, who was standing there frozen, lightsaber drawn. Friz dropped the weapon, still frozen.

"Thank you, Friz."

He didn't move; he just stared at Ruthyn's dead body.

"It's all right."

Friz turned around and walked toward the elevator; he was going back to the ship. Mithic picked up Ruthyn's saber as well as Friz's before following the Jawa out.

---------------

Indy wanted to shoot herself. How could she have been such a fool to believe Han? Her heart and feelings had betrayed her yet again, and she had hopelessly tried to fight her feelings for Han. The sickening feeling she was feeling now, however, put her feelings into real perspective. She felt as if she'd just been punched in the gut. Han had betrayed her after he made her believe in him.

Her momentary surprise was then followed by anger. She wasn't going to shoot herself, but not before she shot him. The man was standing there, in front of her, eyes locked with her own, and he wore a frown. So he felt guilty? She hoped he damn well did. Indy's emotions were getting the better of her at the moment, and part of her was willing to risk getting electrocuted by trying to break out of her prison.

"You lying piece of bantha poodoo!" she shouted at him angrily.

Han sighed before replying, "Calm down, Indy, and listen carefully...because the danger you're in is way more than either of us anticipated. I didn't think Czerka was going to act this soon."

"Stop these games, Han. I know you're working for the Exchange—and a Hutt, no less!" Indy said, unable to keep the hurt out of her tone.

"Kid, I don't want to see you hurt! I was trying to protect you—"

"Like hell you were! I heard what they said to you. You were just..." Her voice caught in her throat for a moment before she croaked, "Just _using_ me."

Han hung his head, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Indy, it's too late to do anything different. These people, they're mercenaries, and if you don't give them what they want...they'll kill you."

Indy remained silent, and there was a burning fire in her eyes as she glared angrily at Han. She'd rather die than hand over the artifact. She knew Han also knew that. Death wasn't frightening anymore. It hadn't been since she'd used one of the books to kill and then resurrect herself just as quickly. Death was almost liberating compared to the emotional chaos she felt every time Han was near.

"I don't want to hear it, Han. I'm sick of your excuses, your lies," Indy snapped.

Han's tense stance showed his inner emotions. His guilt was nearly all-consuming, but this wasn't entirely his fault. He had tried to protect Indy, for as long as possible anyway. He had known that someone dark and powerful was seeking that holocron, and knew it was only a matter of time until they attained it. If only Indy wouldn't be so stubborn, then they had a chance to escape with both their lives.

Indy sat down defiantly, crossing her arms across her chest. Her haughty attitude was beginning to annoy Han, but he was too worried for her at the moment. This woman...he loved her. Truly and deeply, though he doubted he'd ever have a chance to tell her so. His own fear and apprehension kept him back from doing so. But this time, he would do what needed to be done to save her. Even if it meant sacrificing his own life in the process. He was done being a coward, a deserter. This time...he was going to do the right thing.

"You're leaving," he said at last.

Indy rolled her eyes. "How sweet. So you're all powerful now? Last time I checked, you couldn't break down Force cages, and I couldn't walk through them."

Han ignored her taunting statement and went to work on the Force cage's controls. Indy quirked her head, trying to see what he was doing. "Han?"

No reply.

"Han Solo, what in Force's name are you doing?"

Han continued working on the controls, determined to shut down the Force cage before Caine and Cody returned. He knew they were out for blood and that as soon as they got what they wanted, Indy was as good as dead. At least Han had some leverage. Logga needed him to make smuggling runs, and he was one of the best. Logga couldn't risk losing him.

Indy stood abruptly, sick of Han ignoring her. "Han, what _are you doing_?!"

Han turned to her and pointed angrily at her, and in that single gesture Indy became quiet and sullen. She hoped Han was on her side, but she just wasn't sure of anything anymore. She'd been betrayed a lot recently, and she was starting to see where Carth had come from.

"I meant what I said, kid—you're leaving," Han said just as the Force cage opened.

Indy nearly tumbled out; she was so relieved to be free. She stretched for a moment before turning her attention to Han. He grabbed her fedora and handed it to her. She snatched it away and promptly placed it on her head, smiling faintly... only for a brief moment.

"Now scram, kid," Han ordered.

Indy's eyebrow shot up. "What about you?"

Han remained silent, and Indy took that as a bad sign.

"One person leaving won't be noticeable, but when two leave... something's up. Caine and Cody will notice and then we'll both be dead," Han explained before pushing her slightly towards the door. The contact of his hand brushing against her bare shoulders made them both nearly leap away from each other.

Indy looked to the door, than back to Han who had turned away from her now. "You'll be killed."

"Maybe...but I doubt it. Logga needs me," Han said, not at all confident of that fact.

"This is stupid, Han, and you know it."

"I'm not going with you this time, kid," Han said sadly, before adding, "You're going to have to fight your own battles from now on...without me."

That "without me" was what really got Indy's heart racing. She couldn't just leave Han here to be tortured and murdered, no matter what he'd done to her. She couldn't leave him because she feared she'd never see him again. And she loved him.

"I'm not going anywhere without you," she said stubbornly, hands on her hips.

"I'll push you out that door if I have to," he said threateningly.

Indy's unwavering gaze unnerved him for a moment before he sighed in exasperation. He just was never going to win with this woman.

"No."

"You're coming."

"No."

"Yes."

"Damn it, Indy, grow up! This is the real world and people die...and there's no way we're both leaving this facility alive," Han yelled at her.

She walked up to him slowly, running her hand along his jacket, until it eventually reached his face, and then she slugged him hard in the face, leaving him with a bruised jaw. He rubbed it tenderly, shock registering in his eyes as he looked at her.

She smiled before saying, "Now that that's out of the way...I feel better."

Then she kissed him long and hard, her tongue dancing with his in a sensual kiss that ignited their desire for each other. The kiss, however pleasant, lasted only for a brief moment before they both pulled away, albeit reluctantly.

"Now, let's get out of here. Both of us. And if you say no, I'll hit you again."

"That doesn't sound necessarily bad, considering what happened the last time—"

"Han!" she cried.

"Okay, I'm coming...I'm coming."

-------------------------

"...And then he had the gall to say that I was going too slow!" Carina complained to her Zabrak friend.

"Did he now?"

"Yeah! After we'd been training vigorously for more than two hours!" Carina continued, shifting in her seat, which was upon a large box filled with technical equipment.

Over the past few weeks, her training with Kavar had gotten even tenser, and it was starting to really wear on her nerves. She was thankful that she had Kevan, a Zabrak she'd met a few weeks prior, to vent her frustrations. He was a mechanic working on the Jedi Temple, and Carina felt it easy to confide her feelings in him. He was an avid listener, which was good considering she usually had a lot of things on her mind.

"And then, recently, the other Padawan have been shunning me for no apparent reason. It's as if they act like I'm dangerous!" Carina said sadly. She was a social creature, which explained her need to converse with others.

Kevan gave her a small smile. The Carina he had known before had been dark and somewhat cruel, but the one he knew now was so much different. He actually enjoyed her company, as it gave him something to do when he had downtime. Sure, she could be overly melodramatic and annoying at times, but she wasn't necessarily evil as far as Kevan was concerned.

"You're probably just imagining things," he offered.

"Maybe. But lately, I've been getting these weird feelings that people are watching me...but when I look around, everyone's eyes are averted from me. It's just, well, weird, is all," she said sullenly.

"Perhaps you should focus more on your training—" Kevan began to suggest while trying to fix an overheated modulator.

Carina sighed. "That's what Master Kavar keeps saying, too. It's easy for you and him to say that. You both know everything about your past, while all I have is a name I don't recall and abilities I don't remember learning."

She sounded so pitiful that Kevan couldn't help sympathizing with her. "Don't worry about it."

"But I _do_ worry. Maybe that's my problem," she said, "I can't focus on my lessons when I'm too busy worrying about my past. What do you think?"

"It's probable," Kevan said simply.

Carina looked down, and kicked her feet back and forth like a small child. "I just feel...so alone."

Silence ensued thereafter, and Kevan had no reply to that. Carina had murdered a lot of people—she'd been a Sith lord, after all. But this Carina was different, even a bit likeable. But she didn't know about the past, and part of her personality had already resurfaced, which meant the memories could too and that would eventually make her a definite danger.

"You have me," Kevan said, although he wasn't sure exactly why. He just felt the need to encourage and comfort her. It'd been that way for as long as he'd known her at the temple. She felt almost like a younger sister to him, and he wished she didn't.

Her smiled was instant and bright. "Thanks, Kev! I'm sorry I complain so much...I just can't help it. I feel so left out of the loop sometimes."

"Sometimes?" he asked with ill humor, raising an eyebrow.

She giggled. "All right, all the time."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but he managed to repress it. "You should probably get back to training with your master."

"I should," she said with a sigh.

He went back to working on his broken modulator as she scurried off.

----------------

With Bao's strong arms wrapped around her, Igrayne felt safe and secure. She breathed in the same steady rhythm as he did. His soft snoring was also comforting to her. In fact, just lying in bed with him was heaven. Here she was with the person she loved most in the galaxy. She'd just been promoted to the rank of Jedi knight as well. Life was seemingly perfect at the moment.

As she lay there, her mind wandered from the pleasant thoughts of Bao and their recent lovemaking to those of Telos and Carina. She hadn't fully explored the possibility that she was alive. She had just assumed that she was dead after the incident at Malachor V. When she had felt her friend's presence ripped violently from the galaxy, there had been no explanation for it other than that she had died.

But part of her reprimanded herself for being so ignorant. Carina might have hid her Force presence. She could feel a faint and familiar presence in the Force emanating from the Jedi Temple, and she wanted nothing more than to go explore and see if she could find her old friend—and enemy.

Bao shifted in his sleep, and she snuggled up against him even more intimately. After the night they had shared, she was exhausted but completely satisfied. She'd gotten some sleep last night, but not enough for her liking. Her mind had been restless, constantly thinking about the problems in the galaxy. She rolled over to look at Bao-Dur, who was still sleeping peacefully.

She kissed his chapped lips softly, with little fervor so as not to wake him. He woke up anyway, and she felt his arm snake around her waist, drawing her closer to him. She gasped in delight as his hand traced her thigh and downward. He grinned softly at her, and then kissed her passionately. She was tempted to allow him to make love to her again, but she knew there were things they needed to do, such as prepare for their trip back to Telos.

"Igrayne..." Bao breathed as she got out of the bed and wrapped a robe around her naked frame.

"We have to get going, Bao. I'm going to take a quick shower and then Master Vrook wants us to report back to the temple to meet the other knights that will be aiding Telos' cause," Igrayne explained, slipping into the 'fresher and turning on the water.

Bao was disappointed, but didn't say so. Getting back to Telos was more important at the moment, and he intended to aid in helping restore the planet back to its former beauty. He was pleased that Rani's campaign was going so well, as it aided greatly in their efforts to help heal the broken planet.

Igrayne emerged from the shower shortly after Bao had gotten dressed. Bao had taken the liberty of packing up the majority of their things, making sure he didn't pack Igrayne's lightsaber away. She stepped out from the shower clothed in a towel that was not by any means modest. She smiled seductively as she traced a scar on his face and kissed him.

"Let me get changed and then we'll go," she said, quickly slipping into one of her new robes.

Bao nodded, taking her arm when she finished, and escorted her to the Jedi Temple's main room. The high vaulted ceilings of the temple gave it a grand look, as did the golden adorned pillars that lay to the side of the massive hallway that led off to many different places in the great temple.

"Something is bothering you." Bao said it more as a statement than question.

Igrayne nodded.

"It is Carina, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"She is alive, isn't she?"

"I'm afraid so. I can feel her now. It's faint, and not as it was, but perhaps that is for the best," Igrayne said sadly, drawing strength from Bao's presence. "She was a good person Bao, and I can't help but wonder...could she be that good person again?"

Bao's brow furrowed with consternation. "I suppose it is possible, but only if she _wanted_ to return to the good person she was."

"I want to see her, Bao," Igrayne whispered.

"It's not a good idea..."Bao warned. "If she is indeed alive, then the Jedi are keeping this a secret for a reason, Igrayne."

Igrayne was unconvinced. "Everyone thinks she's dead, and Mical... Oh, Bao! Mical would be so happy if she was alive!"

Bao heard the excitement in her voice, but did not like where she was going. "He might feel worse for not being the one to save her. Or for not even knowing she was alive. I'm sorry, General, but it seems like a bad idea to me."

He had some valid points, but Igrayne had already decided that she wanted to find her friend. Unfortunately for Bao, luck was on her side. As they turned the corner, they ran smack into a woman with brown hair and piercing green eyes that Igrayne would have recognized anywhere. She felt her breath catch in her throat, and she saw the woman brush herself off. Bao shared her look of disbelief.

"Ouch...oh, sorry. I didn't see you there!" she apologized sincerely, preparing to depart again.

"Carina?" Igrayne asked, her voice barely a whisper because she was in such shock at seeing her supposedly dead friend.

There was no sense of recognition in her former friend's eyes, and Igrayne suddenly thought that Bao might have been right in his warnings and apprehension. Though there was still a small vestige of darkness in her, there was so much light as well, so much life.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" she queried.

Igrayne and Bao merely looked at each other. The expression in Bao's eyes was unreadable. Igrayne felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach when Carina couldn't even identify who she was. She had worked closely with the woman on Telos before the bombing had reduced the planet to little more than a smoldering crater.

"Don't you?" Igrayne asked.

Carina's face instantly lit up, though not with the expected response.

"Oh, you're that Jedi that everyone's been talking about. The one who just got promoted. Well done. Master Kavar mentioned you briefly, but he didn't say much."

Igrayne must have blanched, because she felt a steadying hand on her shoulder. She ignored Bao-Dur for the time being, fully focusing her remaining energy on trying to get some answers out of the clueless woman standing before her.

"Master Kavar?"

"Yeah, my teacher," Carina explained with a shrug. "You've _got_ to know who he is, right?"

Igrayne couldn't help but stare. It was like she was looking at a ghost, but the fact that the ghost spoke so animatedly didn't comfort her at all.

"Yes, of course." Igrayne took a steadying breath. "My mentor is Master Vrook, though at one time it was suggested I should go to Kavar for training."

"Yeah, well, you're lucky you didn't," Carina said with an audible sigh. "At least you got rewarded for your hard work."

Igrayne wanted to say something, but it was so painfully apparent that Carina didn't know who they were. Bringing up the past might just complicate things.

"I must go," Igrayne said tritely, trying to find some reason to excuse herself from this unpleasant reunion. Bao-Dur could sense her discomfort, and he put an arm over her shoulder before realizing the gesture could be interpreted wrongly by the others.

As Igrayne and Bao-Dur walked away briskly to the ship they had called to take them to Telos, she heard his soft voice assault her from behind.

"What was that?"

Igrayne spun about, feeling queasy in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know if it was due to the fact that she hadn't eaten a proper breakfast or that she had just seen Carina in fine form.

"What was _what_?"

"You didn't tell her," he said, stepping a fraction of an inch closer. Close enough to see the anger simmering below the surface.

"She didn't know," Igrayne whispered. "Bao, she didn't know. My fears...are confirmed. That unrest that I felt in the Force...there was a reason for it."

She drew a jagged breath that made it painfully apparent just how hard she was taking this.

"What do I do? Speak with Master Vrook?"

"It is not your place," he reminded her.

"You're right," she said, feeling defeated. It was suddenly strange to her how all the incredible feelings of the past night could be so quickly overshadowed by one ill-fated meeting. "I'll do nothing..._for now_. But I must have answers eventually."

Bao-Dur nodded with resolve and continued walking toward their ship. Igrayne found his silence infuriating and his indifference even more so. He seemed to be digesting the news of Carina rather well.

She boarded the ship, trying to make as much noise as possible to convey to the Zabrak how unhappy she was with him. He didn't pick up on the subtleties and nuances in her behavior, though, because he was so fully focused on plotting their trajectory for Telos.

"Strap in," he said softly.

They were airborne in a matter of minutes, and Igrayne walked freely about the cabin, trying to make small adjustments here and there. While Bao was preoccupied with manning the controls, she bolted herself in the 'fresher and began to cry for the first time in a long time, her elbows poised on her kneecaps and her head in her hands.


	8. The Holovision Interview

Mithic made his way back to the _Sunbeam_ and went to the area of the ship he let Friz use. The room was already messy, and it looked like Friz had torn one of the beds in the dormitory in half. The material inside was tossed all around the room. There was no sign of the Jawa in this room, but Mithic knew he was here. He pulled back a wall panel and there was his new companion, hiding from the world. Friz looked afraid of something. R9 had followed him in, as commanded by his master.

"What happened back there?"

Friz made some unintelligible babbling, and R9 translated it to: "Friz does not kill like this. Not if he does not harm me. People will fear me. Me not deserve to see light again"

"Friz, you saved my life back there! Without you, I wouldn't have made it out alive! I am truly indebted to you."

R9 translated, "It is okay, magic man. You let me on your starship when the Sandpeople were after me. We are even."

"No, actually you snuck on my ship and you saved me, so I owe you one. With this weapon, you killed that man back there."

"This I know, and I am staying here now."

"I could train you to use this. You killed that man with luck. You could easily have killed yourself with it by accident. With weapons training, you could really help me out. So, what do you say?"

"I will learn from you, but I am staying here today. Bring me some food and drink please!"

"Okay, what do you want?"

"Jawa Juice, as you big folk call it, and a hubba gourd."

"Umm…I don't think 'hubba gourds' are available on Telos."

"Okay, magic man, just get me some food!"

"All right, all right! Sheesh!"

-------------------

Caine left Cody's side to go check on their prisoner. Entering the room, she was devastated by the sight before her.

"Hey, we've got a little hunt on our hands. Get ready to leave; they can't have gotten far already."

"Oh, don't tell me he let her out. I told you we shouldn't have left him alone with her."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now let's get a move on!"

"All right, but we better make sure we have our guns with us; they might put up a fight."

Caine drew her blaster from its place. "You actually think I would go unarmed?"

"No, actually, I didn't. Now, let's go get these people back."

Caine and Cody left the Czerka Offices heavily armed. Caine held her N'Gant-Zarvel 9118 Carbine rifle, while Cody was armed with his modified DC-15A blaster rifle, which was fitted with a projectile launcher, firing anything from smoke grenades to mini-rockets.

"I'll bet they went to an apartment. Let's go knock on some doors."

"You mean knock down some doors?" Caine asked with a hint of anticipation. She sounded as if she wanted to knock down some doors.

"If that's necessary. We need to keep a low profile. These weapons we're carrying aren't exactly legal, and attracting the attention of TSF is not what we want to do right now."

"Oh, fine, legal-man. You know you wanted to kick down a few doors. With that bitch Lorso putting us on guard duty, I'm just dying to kill someone. It's been far too long."

"You might get your wish. C'mon, let's get to those apartments."

-------------------

"Well, Friz, welcome to your first weapon training class. Today you will be practicing with the lightsaber you carry." Mithic ignited his saber, and Friz followed suit. "We will start with a sparring match. Have you ever used a melee weapon, Friz?"

R9 was brought into the room for translation. Friz's words were translated to: "No, magic man, I have not used the glowy stick of the Jedi."

"Okay then… let us begin."

Mithic waited for Friz to attack, as was his normal form. He was the passive defender, only attacking when it was necessary, and his blows were all meant to keep the opponent alive unless he had a reason to kill. Friz charged toward Mithic, his saber held vertically above his head. The attack was easily blocked, as he was fighting against an untrained opponent. Friz was very aggressive in attacking, but it was to no avail, as there was no skill behind the vicious blows. Aggression was a formidable tactic, but against a weapons master it was no use. Some strategy was needed to even get through Mithic's defense.

Constant training and practice was on the side of Mithic, but Friz's rage was getting to be very effective. He almost struck Mithic a few times, but every attack was blocked. Mithic swept his lightsaber on the ground, an attack normally meant to immobilize the opponent. Mithic used his free hand to pick the little Jawa up by his robe, and ended the battle.

"You need to channel your anger and rage into a strategy. Attacking repeatedly is good, but it is easy to beat. Special attacks can surprise an opponent, and when you catch them off guard, they are quickly defeated. With a weapon like this, one mistake can be all it takes to defeat an opponent."

They reactivated their weapons and fought again. Friz improved phenomenally, and was doing well against Mithic. The two battled for a while, but Mithic's Force abilities were an advantage over Friz. He performed a complicated move that was used to distract opponents, allowing him to incapacitate them—one he developed from fighting Eklipse. He flipped backwards and sprung off the wall of the room, landing behind Friz. The Jawa stood watching, and Mithic tripped Friz; his opponent's saber fell out of his hand. Unfortunately for Mithic, it landed upside down, putting a hole in his ship. He now could not fly the ship until it was repaired. He went over to the saber and deactivated it before it damaged his ship further.

Mithic then helped his opponent up, and told him, "Friz, you are showing real improvement. Against any average opponent, you would easily best them. With more training, however, your skills would rival even that of a Jedi master! You show real skill for a new trainee. Your weapon skills would be very useful if we ever entered a battle. Report here tomorrow, same time, for more training."

R9 processed the response, and transmitted it to: "Okay, magic man, Friz be in here next day. Goodbye!"

----------------

_BAM._

Not them.

"Caine."

_BAM._

Not them again.

"Caine?"

_BAM._

Nothing.

"Caine, I thought we agreed not to knock down any doors."

_BAM._

"Ugh!" Caine shouted, kicking down yet another door, ignoring Cody's comments. "This is so frustrating! Do they really mean to hide from us?"

"It appears that way," Cody replied with a sigh, giving their currently entered room a thorough once over. Yet another empty one. "Strange," Cody said with a labored breath.

"Cowards!" Caine yelled, not seeming to notice this oddity or simply not caring, her fist dramatically shaking in the air.

Cody gave her a sideways glance. "I would prefer you use more discretion, but I always thought you loved a good chase," said his static voice through the orange and white helmet. He turned his attention back to the surroundings, looking for something unusual.

"Of course I do," Caine said, smiling. "But I'm bored, and discretion is overrated."

Cody dropped his head and shook it, and just then noticed an odd sort of footprint on the floor.

"Time to go, Caine," Cody announced, heading for the door without another motion.

"Commander?" Caine asked, tilting her head to look at the place where Cody had been. Suddenly, everything became clear, and Caine's smile widened into a crazed grin. She quickly followed Cody out the door, closing it behind her as best she could with the remaining pieces.

----------------

"Are they gone?" Indy asked Han softly, as she crawled out from their hiding space under the bed.

Han was the first to peek, carefully poking his head out past the edge of the bed frame. "Looks like it," he said back.

Indy soon followed his lead, doubtful of his judgment calls, particularly as of late, but the doorway appeared empty, just as Han had said. Indy jumped to her feet and straightened her fedora atop her head.

-----------------

"Well?" Caine said quietly to Cody.

"Well, what?" Cody replied, equally as softly.

"Fire a rocket in there," she told him.

"What about discretion?"

"This place is empty, Commander. We both know that."

"Someone is bound to notice an explosion," Cody said.

"You know you want to," Caine whispered, and Cody paused.

-----------------

"When we get out of here, you are going to have a lot of explaining to do, Han," Indy said with a glare. "I want to know exactly what's going on."

Han opened his mouth to reply, but instantly closed it again. A noise broke his thoughts; the sound was faint at first but quickly increasing in volume and tone, and…

"Indy, get down!" Han shouted, grabbing Indy's arm and yanking her down into his arms just as a projectile rocket flew by. He quickly turned her over and shoved her under the bed, barely making it under himself as the rocket exploded.

"Han!"

-------------

"I think you missed," Caine commented, peering into the charred room.

"I'm not trying to kill them," Cody replied.

"Oh, right," Caine said, barely recollecting or caring. "The artifact."

A moment passed.

"I think you should fire another rocket," Caine said.

"Let's just go in," Cody told her, a smile on his lips. She knew he liked creating explosions more than he admitted. But he simply cleared his throat, trying to suppress the enjoyment, Caine was sure, and took a step into the burnt room.

------------

"Han! Han!" Indy shouted, shaking the unconscious scoundrel as they lay under the bed. "Wake up! Please, wake up!"

-----------

A voice. A single voice, shouting, crying, begging. It was almost like…

"Mona," a man breathed.

She couldn't move, couldn't think, and couldn't see. The pain in her eye was unbearable. Her entire body shook with agony; the worst of it, her eye!

"Cody?" she mumbled, coughing blood from her throat.

"Mona, I'm sorry," the man went on, his voice lined with panic, guilt, and sorrow. "Please, don't do this! Don't let this happen!"

-------------

"Han…I can't lose you!"

-------------

"Mona…I can't lose you!" A man, a soldier, so powerful and brave and unknown to strong, devastating emotion, broke down from it. His voice, usually so calm, fell into terror.

She didn't want to see him like that; she didn't want him to suffer like he did. She never blamed him.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" screamed a vaguely familiar female voice.

-------------

Cody was beginning to regret taking this job.

"I'll kill you!" the archeologist screamed, jumping toward Caine and Cody unarmed, but with amazing courage. He knew Caine would have been amused, had she not gone into a trance the moment they entered the room. "I'll kill you both!"

"Uh, Caine?" Cody called, holding Indy back with both arms.

"He's not waking up! I'll kill you!"

"Caine?"

She was still standing there, like a drone, unmoving, unblinking.

Cody's heartbeat quickened. "Caine?!"

--------------

"Mona, please."

"Cody?"

"Caine!"

"Cody?"

With a brilliant flash in her mind's eye, all pain disappeared and instantly she found herself back where she had been moments before—in the apartment, looking for the prisoner with Cody, who now stared at her with complete attention, despite his struggle with the mess of a girl at his arm's length.

"Cody?" she said, an unusual tremble in her voice.

Cody was speechless, completely caught off guard by her weak tone.

She only stood for a moment before the world turned dark and she crashed to the floor.

-------------

"Caine!" Cody called, shoving off a surprised Indy, who landed on the floor with a groan. He rushed to his companion's side, his helmet detached and hitting the floor at record speed. He didn't know what to do. She had never just gone into a trance and passed out before. And the way she had said his name, with a voice so small he almost couldn't hear it, made him want to pull out his own heart to stop the ache. She was always so tough; he had no idea what could have made her…

The thought stopped, and he knew.

Slowly, cautiously, he reached a hand up and touched her face, barely, just brushing the side of her cheek with his gloved fingertips.

"Mona," he breathed. It had been a long time since he called her that. Perhaps too long.

---------------

Indy stared for a moment, confused and unsure, before returning to Han's side. She carefully removed him from their hiding spot under the bed into the open, and was thusly better able to fully see his burnt back, which left her feeling sick. He had blocked that blow meant for her. She never asked him to protect her. Why did he always have to be so stubborn?

"Han?" she whispered to him, frightened by thoughts of his permanent loss. But her worries were unfounded, as he awoke with a large groan.

"Uck, what was that?" he grumbled, clutching his side. He looked up at Indy, slightly disoriented yet pleasant, considering the burns on his back.

Knowing he was going to live, Indy shoved him. "Don't ever do that to me again, Han!" she warned. "Or so help me—"

"Okay, kid. Okay," he apologized weakly. "I just…I couldn't let them hurt you."

If it had been any other moment, Indy would have wrapped those words around her and melted in them, but right then, there was still immediate danger—not to mention the fact that Han had a lot of explaining to do.

"Come on," she said in a rushed tone of voice. She grabbed her fedora, which had been disagreeably discarded during the excitement, and pulled his shoulder over her arm. "We have to get out of here."

----------------

The noise behind Cody brought his unobstructed gaze straight into that of the archeologist's, who even then moved toward the exit with her wounded male companion. Cody could have stopped them; he could have saved what was left of their mission. But right then, at that very moment, he didn't care about the mission, or Czerka, or the artifact, or the pay.

"I won't stop you," Cody said to her as she passed steadily by. "Not today."

Without another word or thought, they were gone, and Cody was alone in the broken room with Mona Caine. They couldn't stay there with the mess they had just caused, but they couldn't go back to Czerka with Caine in such disarray. Lorso would have eaten it up. They needed to find a place to lie low for awhile, at least until Caine could explain what was going on. Of course, the only one who could get her out of there safely was him, and that meant…

Cody would have to carry her.

--------------

The holovision droned on as Trentyn's eyelids began to droop, the voices in the news report blending together into a low buzz. He had been confined to his wheelchair for the past few hours, waiting for the powerful pain relievers to take effect. Tren hated being forced to vegetate; although he never minded lounging around, his pain-imposed stagnation was boring him to a point of exhaustion.

A familiar voice finally cut through the droning of the holovision. "Yes, I knew Rani very well back in the day," commented a blue-skinned Twi'lek in the news report.

"Is that so? And how did you know her?" questioned the journalist, a young busty blonde woman who momentarily stole Tren's attention.

"Well, she worked with me," the Twi'lek responded, apparently not realizing the potential hazard of the information she was revealing.

"So Ms. Taraster was indeed a dancer at a cantina?" The journalist's face noticeably brightened, as if she had just received a gift she had wished for. Tren's eyes again moved down the hologram, inspecting the tight fitting top on the woman.

"Umm…well, yes, but…" the Twi'lek dancer stuttered, finally realizing her mistake.

"Frackin' Alema," Tren said to himself, flicking off the holovision. "The mass on her chest must be detracting from the mass in her head." Although some soreness remained, Trentyn stood up, deciding that enduring the lingering pain was better than wasting away in a wheelchair. He limped slightly toward Rani's bedroom door, which was open, giving Tren a clear view of his sister, who was at her desk, fast asleep, pen still in hand. She lifted her head off her desk, awaking at Tren's footsteps, and hastily removed the papers that stuck to her face.

"Huh…Trentyn? Are you okay? I guess I drifted off…" Rani explained, straightening the piles of paperwork that had recently served as her headrest. "Ce-Ira-Mundi just keeps piling this stuff on me," Rani said, motioning to the stacks of paper. "What did you need?"

"I've got to get out of this apartment for a little while," Trentyn said, stretching his arms. "And I just thought I'd warn you that your old friend Alema just told the press about your previous occupation here on Telos."

"Force!" Rani exclaimed, closing her eyes in frustration. "Just when I straighten things out, another obstacle arises." Rani stood up and quickly walked to the 'fresher, looking at herself in the mirror and readying herself to leave. "I've got to talk to Ce-Ira-Mundi about this, and as usual, he won't be pleased." Rani strode to the door of the apartment. "I'm really sorry Tren, but I have to go, and I won't be back for a while. Are you feeling well enough to take care of yourself?" There were few people in the galaxy Rani cared about more than her brother, and she showed her concern for his wellbeing even amidst all her stress.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." Tren hugged his sister before she left. "And don't let that cone head stress you out too much," he added, his irreverence bringing a smile to Rani's face.

Tren walked to the adjoining suite and opened the door. Atton's body was laying face down, spread-eagled across the bed that he and Evy shared. Tren couldn't help but chuckle at the scoundrel's awkward sleeping position as he entered the room. Atton had slept away the last few days, unable to find a use for himself with Evy working long hours at the clinic.

"Get up, buddy." Trentyn poked the back of Atton's head, eliciting a groggy mumble from the man. Atton slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Sweets?" Atton asked, still furiously massaging his eyelids.

"Yes, it's me, baby," Trentyn replied in the highest octave he could generate.

"Tren, sometimes I really hate you," Atton rolled off the bed, running a hand through his hair.

"But I love you!" Tren continued in the shrill voice, his confinement to the apartment obviously affecting him. "But seriously, bro, we need to do some work."

Atton stretched his arms out from his body, his back cracking in several spots. "Sure thing. By the way, did Evy stop by? She said she'd take a break and drop by when she got a chance…"

"No, but there were a lot of patients at the clinic. She is probably still very busy." Tren looked at his friend.

"I hate just sitting around here. If this project doesn't take up all my time, I'm going to start hitting the cantina. My Pazaak could use the practice." Atton was obviously frustrated with the lack of time he and Evy had gotten together as of late.

"Well, don't count on having too much free time. Like I said, we need to do some work on our 'project.'" Tren sniffed the air lightly before saying, "Do you want to take a quick shower before we go?"

Atton sniffed himself. "Eh, I'll be fine."

Trentyn shook his head at his friend. "Whatever suits you, bro. Let's head out."

In one of their recent conversations, Carth had suggested to Trentyn that he and Atton check out an old storage house as a possible headquarters for their operations on Telos. It had previously been used to store wildlife that was shipped into Citadel Station before the animals were shuttled down to the restoration zones. However, it had been abandoned after a newer, larger facility had been built which was closer to the edge of the station.

Feeling much stronger, Trentyn walked alongside Atton as they made their way through an older part of Citadel Station toward the intended building. As they walked, Atton thought aloud, "Man, I still can't believe they bombed our building back on Coruscant, whoever was responsible. Now we have to look up all those names all over again."

Trentyn smiled. "Come on, Rand, it's not so bad. At least we still have this." Finishing his statement, Tren produced a small clear case containing a disk.

"Is that from our terminal at the old building? You recovered the names?" Atton stared incredulously at the case.

A devious smile spread across Trentyn's face. "You think I would leave something this important behind? As soon as I saw Mithic on our cameras, I moved all the files to this." Tren waved the case.

"So that's everything? It's all on there?" Atton's disposition improved slightly; he had accepted the belief they had lost all their work in the bombing.

"Everything."

The two men finally reached the storehouse, which was in relatively good condition, considering that it hadn't been occupied in months. None of the windows were shattered, and the exterior was not deteriorated at all, although it had the general look of an abandoned building. All in all, it perfectly suited Tren and Atton's needs.

Inside, much of the building had been cleaned out, although a few beds and cages remained. Apparently, the animal trainers had lived in the building as well, as it had fairly extensive living quarters in the back.

"This is great!" Tren exclaimed excitedly, surveying a few dormitory-style bedrooms. "There is plenty of housing here for all of our little Gizka."

As the two men peered into the last room in the hall, they met the eyes of an unshaven young man, slightly younger than Trentyn, sitting on the bed. At the initial sight of the men he backed up, looking apprehensive, his hand straying to a concealed weapon.

To Trentyn, the man resembled a vagabond with his dirty clothes and straggly beard. This notion was fostered by the man's reaction to visitors, as obvious panic and surprise registered in his face. Reluctantly, Trentyn reached for his own lightsaber, anticipating a clash. However, to his surprise, the man lowered his hands, recognition seemingly dawning upon him.

"Trentyn?" the man croaked, as if he hadn't spoken in a couple days.

"Dustil?" Trentyn couldn't believe his eyes. The Dustil he had trained in lightsaber combat back on Korriban was only a few years younger than himself, and yet he had seemed so young and immature. But the man standing before him now seemed older, although more so in experience than appearance. This Dustil seemed to have seen real horror and turned away from it, unlike the old adolescent Dustil, who relished in small acts of cruelty back at the academy.

"Listen, you can't tell anyone I'm here, the Republic is going to try me for war crimes if they catch me. I'm sure you guys can sympathize, being ex-Sith yourselves." Dustil gave Tren and Atton a pleading look.

"Look, Dustil, you can't keep running; you know the Republic will find you eventually. Let us help you," Atton appealed to the young man.

Tren added, "We're trying to gather ex-Sith to hide them from the Republic. Trust me, we can help you out."

"How do I know you won't just hand me over to my father?" Dustil asked, still hesitant.

"Carth knows what we're trying to do, and he supports us. Your father won't turn you in," Tren persuaded him. "Your father loves you, Dustil; he's been looking for you since he saw you. He was crushed when he thought you were dead. Do you really think he'd want to lose you again?"

Dustil felt compelled to trust Trentyn. He was a familiar face for one, and they had almost been friends on Korriban. But something else made him want to trust Tren, something he had recognized in his face. Although he was male, his countenance still held a similar structure to his sister's, and Dustil couldn't help but hang on every last word Rani had said to him.

Reluctantly, Dustil followed Trentyn and Atton back out of the building, back toward Rani's apartment. Dustil was not looking forward to seeing his father yet again, but he would certainly be glad to see Rani. At least he wouldn't be living in an abandoned building that still smelled faintly of Cannok droppings.

--------------

Kevan arranged his tools neatly inside the utility box and balanced his knee against the door frame. He heard an audible sigh behind him, alerting him to Carina's presence. She had a way of creeping up on him when he least expected it and pouring out the contents of her heart to him. At first, the Zabrak had grown tired of her persistent tirades—which seemed to occur more and more frequently as the days passed and her anger with the Jedi master increased. Kevan had to admit, though, that her presence was inspiring. The more they talked, the more he could see she had been cleansed of the dark side energies that once fueled her every movement.

"Watch it," he said as she tumbled into a sitting position beside him, nearly unbalancing his neatly-organized toolbox.

"Kevan, does anything ever _frustrate_ you?"

The Zabrak narrowed his eyes as he sorted out the array of tools to find his hydrospanner. When he powered it up and began working on the door, he was glad for Carina's presence. Work like this could be so mindless sometimes.

"Yes," the Zabrak said, not elaborating.

"It's Kavar," Carina continued without being asked. "Every time that man gives me a command he just expects me to come! I hate being ordered around and being kept in the dark about my past. He knows something, Kevan. I'm convinced of it."

"What could he possibly know?" the Zabrak asked, feigning disinterest to disguise the fact he was actually trembling at that statement.

"I don't know. Something about where I came from."

Carina gasped sharply.

"What is it?"

"Kevan, you know what just crossed my mind? What if I was an awful person? Maybe Kavar's trying to protect me from the truth."

Kevan steeled himself against the admission he thought was surely to follow...

"I mean, what if I was a soldier of some kind?"

"More likely a moisture farmer," Kevan said, scoffing. She took his bait and continued with that line of thinking.

"Yeah, you're right. I was probably nothing special. Being a soldier is a scary thought, though it would make sense with my..._abilities_... Master Kavar says I show a natural talent for the things he teaches me."

Kevan rummaged through the box to find a few repair parts from a droid he had previously deconstructed. He began fitting the parts to the faulty ones in the door.

"Being a soldier's not all that bad, anyway. Some might even say there is honor in it."

"How would you know?" she asked, playing around with the hydrospanner once he had discarded it.

"_I used to be one_."

Carina paused momentarily, turning her gaze fully at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

He nodded and cleared his throat with one great hock. He worked to keep his hands busy as he spoke.

"I was part of the twelfth engineering division on Iridonia. I was given weapons basics, too, because there weren't enough of us to fight, so they had to send in the engineering corps."

"Was this back during the war—at Malachor V?" Carina inquired. Her spine straightened against the wall as she stood with one leg bent, supporting her weight.

"Yeah." He paused a moment. The only sound was that of the Padawans returning from their classes. "It was a long time ago, though. I've forgotten most of what happened."

Carina crouched down into a graceful half-lotus position to force him to face her.

"The Mandalorians. I heard they slaughtered everything in their wake."

Kevan nodded his head purposefully.

"Yes, that is true. They left nothing but death and destruction behind. In the aftermath, Iridonia was reduced to a smoldering pile of rubble...like Telos."

He smiled joylessly and packed away some of his tools.

"But talking about the past is useless. It doesn't do to bring up old hurts and regrets."

Carina sensed that a change of topic was needed, so she stiffened her shoulders and plastered a smug smile on her face.

"Guess who I ran into?"

"My senses tell me you are going to divulge that information regardless of whether I guess or not."

"That Jedi who just got promoted. You know, Master Vrook's star pupil? The one everyone's been talking about. I don't know her name."

"Igrayne..." the Zabrak said, blanching. The general and Bao-Dur had been _here_, and he didn't have the chance to speak with them! How could he have not known?

Carina narrowed her eyes at him, but she wasn't yet strong enough to use the Force to read his innermost thoughts.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

Kevan quickly recovered from his momentary lapse in judgment and changed his demeanor entirely. He shrugged off her question.

"Everybody around here knows. That is, everybody except for you."

"Yeah, taunt me about my ignorance a little more, why don't you?" Carina said with a half-smile. "No, seriously, it was the strangest thing. She acted as if she had _known_ me... She called me by my name."

"She _would_ know it," the Zabrak admitted fondly. Remembering the general made his spirits lift.

Carina paused, confused by what he had just said.

"What did you say?"

"About?"

"What you said. Repeat it," she said, hopping down off her perch to confront him. The Zabrak retained his regal posture as she tried to intimidate him with her close proximity.

When he didn't respond to her command, she answered for him. "You said _she would know it_. What does that mean?"

"Everyone has heard of Master Kavar's apprentice by now."

He breathed an internal sigh of relief when that answer seemed to suffice.

"Yeah, I guess. They've probably only heard his complaints, as he seems to have so many of them..."

"Don't be so tough on yourself. Master Kavar's not an easy teacher...from what I hear," the Zabrak said softly, packing away his hydrospanner, which he had to wrestle a little from Carina's grip.

"Yeah. Thanks. So," Carina began, running a heavy hand through her hair, "I guess you should start calling me _Carina_ now, huh?"

"It is your name, I suppose."

"I kind of like it," she said with a wry smile.

----------------

That evening, Carina hurried as fast as she could to dinner with Master Kavar. Master Kavar was in the dining hall, looking over some datapads as he sipped on a glass of water. From across the room, Carina could feel his eyes on her even though they seemed focused listlessly on the datapads. She took a deep breath and then plunged forward.

"Good evening, master."

"I expected you more than an hour ago," he said without once looking up from his datapad. "What _kept_ you?"

Carina brushed a hand through her hair and picked up a piece of fruit from the platter in the center of the table. The fruit was delicious, and she munched on it hungrily.

"My apologies. I was just looking for answers."

"Answers about what?" Kavar asked with a disapproving stare.

"Answers about why you've been keeping from me the fact that my name is _Carina_."

The Jedi master spat water across the table. Carina was sure she could hear snickering, except she and the Jedi master were the only two in the room. Or so she thought. She returned her attention to her master, a look of curiosity on her face.

"Who told you that?"

"It doesn't matter."

She didn't think it was possible for Kavar to turn such a deep shade of red, but he did.

"That name no longer belongs to you."

Carina instantly went on the offensive, gripping the small cup that had been put at her place setting.

"No. You've oh-so-conveniently deprived me of it."

"I don't like your tone," Kavar began, his voice thick with scorn. It washed over her with almost no effect.

"Tell me, what's so _appalling_ about my identity?"

She didn't notice until now that her hands were gripping the table so hard that the flesh colored white.

"Why do you want to know about this?"

"Because it's the only thing that matters."

"All right," Kavar said, relinquishing his tight hold on the glass. "But you might not like what I am going to say."

"Just give me the truth, master. That's all I want."

Kavar tried and tried again to think of what to say to her and how to express the magnitude of what she had done in plain and simple terms. But the fact that she was staring so wide-eyed at him made him lose his courage. He sifted through her thoughts using the Force and found the explanation she hoped he would give her: that he had been protecting her all along from some grand scheme, that it had all been for her benefit, and not his own.

A dark shadow fell across Kavar's face, mirroring the recessing sunlight that peeked through the slivers in between Coruscant's famed downtown buildings. He needed a lie to keep her content, to buy him a little more time in order to finish her training... When the time was right, he would explain everything in full. But not now. Not here.

"It's true; it was all done to protect you. When I stumbled upon you on Malachor, I had no prior knowledge of your identity. Master Vrook suspected that you were a refugee, that there was a bounty on your head. This fact was confirmed when Vrook sent me the bounty that had been posted for a woman matching your description and with the name 'Carina.' The sum was enormous, and the hunters were tempted. Vrook suggested I take you as my Padawan because no one could breach the sanctity of the walls of the Jedi Temple. Here, you would be safe..."

His eyes fell across the table and the healthy portions of food that lined it. She thought she could detect a smattering of regret inside him, but she didn't know its source or origin. He seemed so earnest that she couldn't have suspected him capable of lying at that moment.

"So that would explain why people are so shocked to see me alive?"

Kavar's brow creased with this knowledge.

"You've had visitors."

"A few," she said, noticing how his hand fell across the top lip of his glass in slow, massaging motions. He seemed very contemplative. Either that or he was trying to contain barely suppressed rage. She had seen him perform the same action on a very similar occasion when he wasn't at all pleased with her.

"It would be best for you to not receive visitors anymore."

"They were just walking around..."

Kavar pursed his lips.

"Well, we shall have to do better on security, won't we?"

Carina took a labored breath and felt like she was going to pop a blood vessel. The Jedi master seemed to be doing everything within his power to make sure that she didn't enjoy herself while here.

His expression was stern, mirroring her thoughts.

"Eat, and then you may go to your room."

She did as he said, and when she arrived in her room, she groaned and fell face first onto the bed. She clutched handfuls of her hair, half-tempted to rip it out in frustration.

Right now, she _hated_ Master Kavar.

---------------

Her campaign headquarters were bustling with activity when Rani Taraster arrived. She paused at the entrance for a few moments, catching her breath. The group of offices that now served as her headquarters were fairly dilapidated when she first began to lease them. But through hard work and the volunteer hours of many in her team, the rooms were now bright and fully functional. A touched smile tugged at the ends of Rani's lips as she watched the members of her team work. Her support team was not considered the "best," but Rani begged to differ. Each member was dedicated and truly believed in her platform; it was more than she could ever ask for.

"Welcome, Ms. Taraster! Ce-Ira-Mundi informed me he wanted to see you right away."

The young Twi'lek receptionist sometimes made mistakes because of her lack of experience, but she was quick to learn. Rani had not fired her because the Twi'lek sorely needed the money.

Rani sighed heavily, running a hand through her curls. "Thank you, Niabe…time to face the dictator," she joked before heading toward the Cerean's small office. Before Rani could make it to his door, several people came rushing up to her, impeding her progress.

"Ms. Taraster, I need to meet with you ASAP to discuss the new budget," her financial department manager called out. Racca was Neimoidian and an excellent advisor on the topic, but Rani frequently butted heads with him.

Rani managed to nod before he went zooming back to his workstation, another member of her team moving into his vacated spot in front of her.

"Rani dahling," Sicile, Rani's advisor on public relations, drawled, "we must talk about how to clean up your reputation after that interview with your cantina friend."

Rani managed a forced smile before answering, "Of course, Sicile."

"And dahling, we will have to discuss expanding your wardrobe," Sicile added, dropping her eyes to Rani's simple gown.

Rani started to roll her eyes before she realized she was still surrounded by other members of her team. It took Rani another half hour to hear concerns and promise more meetings before she finally made it into her campaign manager's office.

"Good afternoon, Ce-Ira-Mundi," she greeted, a forced lightness in her voice.

"Ms. Taraster, I expect you've heard your little secret has been revealed," he replied, his wizened face showing the same solemn expression it usually wore.

"Yes, and call me Rani," she answered, smiling brightly despite Ce-Ira-Mundi's stoic countenance.

"This is part of your problem, Ms. Taraster."

Rani stared at her campaign manager openmouthed. Never had her friendly demeanor been so rudely shot down.

Ce-Ira-Mundi continued, barely taking notice to her reaction. "You want to be a senator. This is not a Miss Galaxy pageant you are competing in. You'll need more than your good looks and personality to win this." He spoke with a vehemence that signaled to Rani his seriousness about the matter.

"I know I'm not exactly what you'd call politician material," Rani said, stepping up to the argument, "but Telos needs a senator who will work hard to make sure we recover fully from the Sith bombing! I know I will do that. I know I'm not as educated or sophisticated as a senator should be, but I'm working as hard as I can. I've been reading every single boring document you've put in front of me!"

Rani's eyes teared up, and she angrily dashed them away with the back of her hand. The Cerean's expression softened slightly, enough for Rani to notice, but her anger and frustration still threatened to spill over into tears.

"Ms. Taraster, I fully believe that you are capable of being a great senator. I would not be here, if I even doubted that in the slightest."

Rani stayed rooted to the spot, fists balled at her sides while she mentally screamed at herself to control her emotions.

Ce-Ira-Mundi folded his arms across his chest, watching her before sighing and stroking the side of his conical head in thought.

"Ms. Taraster, forgive my harsh manner. I only mean to do what is best for you and help you. Much worse will be said to you and about you, and I only wish to toughen you for the coming attacks."

No one would ever be able to replace her father, but Ce-Ira-Mundi was the closest thing to a father figure she had. His apology helped abate Rani's anger.

"I know that, Ce-Ira-Mundi, I just don't expect such biting words from those I care for. However, you are right. There are things I am lacking, and I need to work hard on my weaknesses as a candidate."

The campaign manager nodded with approval, and he did not look as stern as he normally did. A tiny smile lit up Rani's face as she realized Ce-Ira-Mundi truly was pleased with her…and that was no small feat.

"I'll send you some additional reading tomorrow morning, along with the usual articles and reports. Also, I've arranged an interview for you with the same news team that interviewed your friend, Alema." The Cerean told her while taking his seat and staring at the large screen that covered his desk.

"When's the interview?" Rani asked, anxious already for the questions she was likely to be bombarded with.

"This evening. You have a couple of hours to prepare yourself," he replied, glancing up at Rani. Her face had turned an impressive greenish shade. "It will be okay," Ce-Ira-Mundi said, quickly coming to Rani's side. "If you play it right, this can turn out to be positive for the campaign."

"How so?" Rani managed to choke out, her voice an octave higher than normal.

"Your commoner background need not be a hindrance. In fact, our polls show that part of the reason you are so popular is due to your normalcy. It is the classic romantic story…everyday girl becomes a beloved hero of the Republic."

Rani blinked a few times, her eyes finally returning to their normal size.

"I can do this," she said very quietly, as if she were talking to herself. "Thank you, Ce-Ira-Mundi," she said, throwing him a tired smile before heading out of his office to take care of what she could before her public appearance.

"The people need someone like you," he said not long after she'd left. Then he pulled his mind from his reverie and got back to work.

--------------------------------------------

Admiral Carth Onasi sat in a dark corner of _The Orbiting Star_, broodingly sipping on a Corellian ale. He had practically scoured the city and could find no trace of his son. Carth might have thought that he had imagined Dustil's appearance, if Rani hadn't seen him too after her debate. It was so maddening to be so close yet so far from his estranged son. Carth didn't know how much he could bear losing Dustil yet again.

Some words from the nearby holovision caught Carth's attention, and he sat forward in his seat to view it better.

"Coming up, an interview with senator hopeful and prior cantina dancer Rani Taraster. Does the popular and beautiful woman have what it takes to lead Telos? Find out next." The blonde reporter was practically shaking with excitement as she read the holoprompter.

Carth rubbed his eyes. His thoughts moved from worrying about his son to worrying about Rani. How long would it be until the rest of her past was exposed and twisted against her?

"Drinking already? You must be hell of a lot more fun than I thought you were, Republic."

Carth looked over his shoulder to find Trentyn, looking more smug than usual.

"I just needed a break," Carth answered, turning back to his drink. 

Trentyn called an order out to the bartender before pulling a chair up next to the admiral.

"Where's Atton?" Carth asked, running a hand through his hair to push back the two locks that fell over his forehead. They just bounced right back into place.

"Eh, just taking care of some business… We have a new recruit to our _organization_, and Atton's supposed to be conducting an orientation of sorts, but he's probably headed over to the clinic to beg Evy to forgive him." Tren's smile was increasingly smug, and Carth was sure he knew something, but Tren was unlikely to reveal his information until he meant to.

"Forgive him for what?" Carth said. He wasn't particularly interested in the relationship problems of his friends, but he didn't want to slow down the first tension-free conversation he'd ever had with Rani's brother.

"For being himself? He doesn't want to get married and she wants commitment. I personally don't see anything wrong with Atton's reasoning, but when in doubt, apologize to your woman I always say." A sexy waitress sashayed up to the table, placing Tren's drink in front of him before leaving with a seductive smile. Tren ogled her the entire time.

Carth ignored Tren's nauseating display of interest in the waitress and continued the conversation. "I think Evy is right to desire commitment. It's only natural to want a deeper dedication after a while."

"Is that right, Republic? If you believe that so much, then why is my sister's finger still bare?" Tren asked, his dark eyebrow arching over a deep blue eye.

Carth opened his mouth to answer, but halted when he heard Rani's voice. He turned his attention back to the holovision and saw that the interview had begun. Trentyn stopped talking, too, and stared at the hologram.

The admiral watched Rani's image intently, as she reached up and touched her temple while answering a question about the future of Telos. Carth frowned slightly; he could tell her head ached, even if she did seem happy and well. It was probably from stress, or the fact that her hair was pulled back tightly in an intricate braided bun. He preferred her hair down and loose, so he could tangle his fingers in her soft curls as he so often did in the throes of passion. Carth smiled briefly and pushed away the naughty thought when he realized that the outcome of this interview would be crucial to Rani's campaign.

So far the interview was fairly standard, nothing hard-hitting or scandalous was being discussed, and Carth was pleased to see the blonde reporter who held much of Trentyn's attention was being fair to Rani and allowing her good qualities to shine through.

"Ms. Taraster, what do you believe sets you apart and makes you a better candidate than your competitors?" the busty reporter asked.

Rani paused momentarily, and Carth could tell she was gathering her thoughts. "I have knowledge of the unique needs of Telos, I will work hard to restore Telos, and I will strive to bring as much stability to Telosians as possible, but the rest of the candidates promise this also." Rani stopped to smile prettily, and Carth couldn't help but smile with her. "A true understanding of the citizens of Telos…that is what I have that the others don't. With my unique experience as a normal citizen, I can be a genuine and sincere representative of the interests of Telos' people."

Rani's charisma and personable charm were shining as bright as Tatooine's suns, but the admiral couldn't totally stave off a feeling of apprehension.

"That you can!" The reporter said animatedly before continuing her questioning. "Speaking of being an everyday, normal citizen of Telos, where did you work when you lived here before the bombing?"

Rani had known this question was coming, and so had Carth and Tren. Both men waited nervously for her response.

"I worked at a warehouse during the day, and I night, I worked in _The Jewel of the Night_." Rani's answer was succinct.

"_The Jewel of the Night_ is a cantina, right? It used to be one of the most popular cantinas on Telos." The blonde leaned forward towards Rani, unintentionally exposing some cleavage that distracted Tren.

"Yes, you are right, I danced there," Rani replied, giving her a brief answer again.

A drunken man sitting at the bar had been watching the interview too, and he stood up in a sort of excited stupor. "Bloody hell! I knew I'd seen her somewhere before!"

Carth looked at the man, his jaw clenched in irritation, but he ignored the drunkard for the time being to continue watching the interview.

"Ms. Taraster, how do you think the public will take this news that you are, in fact, a cantina dancer?" The reporter looked disappointed in Rani's lack of emotion at the touchy subject.

"Well, I believe the public will understand. I know how it is to struggle in life just to survive. I did what I had to in order to support myself and my brother. I do not regret ever being a cantina dancer. I learned a great many things from the experience." Rani's back was very straight, but her resigned smile was genuine. Carth was proud of the way she'd handled the questioning, and he glanced over to Tren to find that he, too, looked pleased and was no longer staring the assets of the blonde reporter.

"I bet she learned a lot being a dancer… whoa, she probably can move her body in ways that could knock my socks off!" the drunkard commented to hoots and jeers from others at the bar. Carth intended on confronting the men after the interview. They had not seen the admiral in the shadowy corner, and Carth was sure they would not be so vocal once they realized he was present.

"It is no secret that you and Admiral Onasi are a hot item," the blonde reporter continued, shifting gears.

Rani laughed, slight dimples adorning her rounded cheeks. "I guess we haven't been doing a good job of hiding it."

"Is it true that you met on a quest to save the galaxy from the Sith?" The reporter looked truly interested now, her eyes glittering.

"Well, at the time we didn't know we would end up fighting the Sith. When the Sith bombed Onderon, I was one of the injured patients from Telos there. He carried me to a transport to save my life."

Carth allowed the memory to come back to him. Evy and Carina had scurried around, trying to save as many as they could, and Igrayne had been reluctant to leave Rani there. Carth had carried Rani because she had been too badly bruised to walk. He remembered he had not paid much attention at first to her, but when he looked into her wide dark eyes, he had seen an intensity in them that reminded him a lot of Morgana. Rani was similar to Morgana in some ways, but quite different in others.

"Isn't that sweet?" the reporter responded, before continuing. "So is it true you killed a Sith lord?"

Rani stiffened visibly, and Carth was thrown off guard, too. Where had they gotten that information? It was a widely known fact that Rani was a "hero of the Republic," but it had never been revealed to the public that she had been the one to kill Destrik.

"I helped to weaken the Sith forces at the Battle of Dantooine," Rani said, sounding purposely vague, a slight waver creeping into her voice.

"You didn't answer my question, Ms. Taraster. Did you kill the Sith lord who was leading the Battle of Dantooine?" The blonde's countenance had changed. No longer did she seem the friendly, bimbo-esque woman; she was now the hard-hitting, ruthless reporter.

Carth noticed Rani's quickening of breath, a sure sign she felt defenseless.

"I…" Rani floundered, her eyes looking almost pleading. Carth felt a tear at his chest as he sat there, unable to help the woman he loved.

"Yes, I killed him," Rani finally said, her voice as quiet as a whisper.

"Holy shit! She's hot and a dancer and dangerous!" the man at the bar exclaimed.

Carth clenched his fists and a few veins in his neck rose along with his blood pressure.

The blonde reporter paused for a moment, as if allowing the public to digest this information before continuing. "You were romantically involved with the Sith lord, weren't you?" she asked, almost with regret, as if she really felt bad asking a question she knew would tarnish Rani's reputation.

This time, Carth could see Rani's defenses crumbling before his very eyes. The guard she had so carefully constructed came crashing down, her eyes showing absolute disbelief and shock. Her hands that had, up until this point, been resting comfortably in her lap, rose to her throat, where they clutched at her neck as if she was having trouble breathing.

"Answer my question, Ms. Taraster. I think it is important the public knows your past. How many more ties to the Sith do you have, Ms. Taraster? First, we find out your best friend was a Sith lord, a successor to the leader of the Sith Academy on Korriban no less, and now there is information that you were romantically involved with a Sith lord? What else, Ms. Taraster, have you been hiding?"

"Fracking bitch whore of a reporter!" Tren yelled at the holo image of the busty woman whom he had seemed thoroughly taken with up until now.

Rani's normally bronzed skin took on a pale cast as she gripped the edges of her chair. Her eyes became unfocused, she slumped over in her chair, and her body soon slipped to the floor. Several people jumped into the scene, picking the unconscious Rani off the floor.

"That is all for now, people. It seems our senator hopeful has buckled under the pressure. I will continue to bring more news on this enigmatic and complex woman. Until then, this is Jayne Neesin signing off."

"Damn, I hope she loses the election, because then I'd still have a chance with her. Can you imagine having a Maalraas like that in your bed? If she can please a Sith lord, she sure ca—"

The drunkard's words were cut off as Carth's fist collided with the man's face. There was a satisfying crunch as the man's nose broke under Carth's stout knuckles. The man flew back off his stool, and the furious admiral grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up for another blow. This one landed right in the center of the man's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Carth advanced on the man even as the pathetic drunkard vomited all over the floor. Before the admiral could do any more damage to the man, Trentyn dove in front of Carth, blocking his way. 

"Get out of my way, Tren," Carth said dangerously through gritted teeth.

Tren knew he couldn't physically restrain Carth Onasi. Tren was definitely slighter of build than the admiral, but he had to do something.

"Listen, this won't help Rani any!" Tren said, gripping Carth's rippling shoulders.

Carth tore his eyes away from the whimpering man on the floor and looked at Rani's brother.

"Let's go to the medical facility. They probably took Rani there," Tren continued while he still had Carth's attention.

Carth grunted in response and followed Tren out. Trentyn contemplated telling Carth that he and Atton had found Dustil, but decided against it for now. As soon as the admiral calmed down a bit, Tren would tell him.

---------------------

The sounds of the ship exiting hyperspace had occurred some time ago, but Igrayne had barely heard them. Her mind was completely consumed with thoughts of Carina.

_How has she survived? How is it even possible? What the hell is the Council planning for Carina?_

Igrayne clutched her tummy with one arm as she wiped a cold sweat off her forehead with her other hand. She barely made it to the 'fresher in time to throw up into the sink.

Bao-Dur heard the sounds of Igrayne's retching from the cockpit, but he could do little to assist her now. He was piloting the ship into a docking bay on Citadel Station. Besides, he knew the source of her illness was mental and emotional. He could sense her racing and jumbled thoughts through the Force, the only cohesive thread being that all of them were about Carina. Igrayne was overwhelmed by the sight of her…_alive and well_.

The Zabrak set his jaw in a focused angle as he set the ship down as gently as he could to avoid stirring up Igrayne's sickness any more than necessary. Once the ship was safely docked and powered down, he made his way to the 'fresher.

There he found Igrayne, kneeling on the floor. Her head was bowed down, and strands of hair slipped out of her once neat plait. She was no longer vomiting, but her entire body shook.

Bao stared at her. In his eyes, she was always the capable and strong General, so much so that he often forgot that she was still a young woman. And human women were known to have such intense and extreme emotions as Igrayne seemed to be experiencing now.

"General?" he said, using her title and hoping it would encourage her.

Igrayne sat back on her heels and looked up at Bao. Her eyes were red, and her face shone with tears.

He looked back at her, his expression unchanging.

"Do you ever feel like nothing is certain in the galaxy?"

Her words were surprisingly clear for the state she was in.

"General…Igrayne…you are a Jedi knight now. If there is but one thing certain in the galaxy, it is the Force."

Igrayne's eyes flashed at the gentle rebuke, but once her slight anger subsided, she realized Bao was right. The Force…it was light in the gloom of life.

She still felt slightly disappointed that Bao could not truly understand her feelings even with their Force bond. She was rudely reminded that some of her thoughts actually were alien to him.

"Give me a moment," she requested, not gently.

Bao-Dur complied, leaving her in silence. She sat for several minutes, first talking herself out of her overpowering emotions, and then meditating to clear her mind. When she was finished, she was as prepared as she ever was going to be, with a shaky but present guard over her feelings.

She washed her face and rebraided her hair before joining Bao in the corridor outside the docking bay. He looked at her and gave her an approving nod, which she ignored. She was silent in the shuttle, and so was Bao-Dur, but that was not strange.

Once they exited the shuttle, Bao-Dur paused in the corridor.

"What's wrong?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Do you not feel it?" he said, his voice as calm and soft as ever.

"Feel what, Bao?" she asked, her patience running thin.

He merely stared down the corridor, his dark eyes focused.

Moments later, two figures stumbled out from around the corner. One was wearing a fedora and supporting the weight of the taller one.

"Indy!" Igrayne called out, jogging toward her friend.

When she reached them, she could see Indy's arm was thrown around Han's waist.

"Is he okay?" Igrayne asked, knowing he wasn't, but not seeing his injuries yet.

Bao caught up to them and relieved Indy of Han's weight.

"Be careful of his back," Indy warned, biting her lip nervously.

Igrayne found that Han's back was burned. His jacket and shirt were burned through in places, and the exposed skin was red and painfully blistered.

"We should get him to the medical facility immediately! How did this happen? And where are you going?"

Indy gazed at Igrayne. She looked scared, and this bothered the Jedi. Indy rarely looked scared.

"There are people after us…after me…Han saved me from a rocket launcher, and the people are after the Sith holocron I have in Carth and Rani's apartment. They are employees of Czerka. We were fleeing; we might not be safe here anymore." Indy's thoughts were fragmented, but they made sense enough to Igrayne.

"You two aren't going anywhere," Igrayne said authoritatively. "We'll take you to the medical facility, Evy and Mical can heal Han, and Bao and I will protect you. The Jedi will not allow such a holocron to fall into Czerka's hands."

Indy sighed, feeling relieved. She had been panicked for the last few hours, and Han's injury and the threat of pursuers had frightened her. It was good to see her friends again. They would not betray her.


	9. Unexpected Visitor

Cody looked at his sleeping companion with worry and compassion. Thankfully, he had been able to frighten a civilian into allowing them to use his apartment, and Cody had found a safe place for Caine upon a silky bedspread in a quiet room.

He studied her features slowly, watching her expression intently for the slightest bit of discomfort. His eyes moved from her ebony locks to her closed eyes, down, before finally settling on her barely parted lips.

Once, long ago, he had dared to kiss her.

He closed his eyes, trying to push away the thought. _That was years ago_, he reminded himself. _Things were different then…_

He wondered if he had known then what cruel twists fate had in store, would he still have stayed with her that night long ago?

Once, he held her in his arms. He didn't know her history, her favorite type of weapon, or even what side of the war she was on. Right then, it didn't matter to him much. For in that moment, there was no war, just two people shed of both clothing and responsibility. She had seen in him what others had not—individuality—and he loved her for it and for all that she was.

Again, he tried to condemn the thoughts back to the gallows of forgotten memories, but the more he tried to do so, the more they pushed their way to the surface.

A battle raged, blaster fire shooting through the sky, and comrades fell to the left and right of the commander, but his gaze was completely fixed on only one enemy, a woman with long black hair, deep brown eyes, and a blaster rifle aimed toward his head.

"So, here we are, commander," the woman said calmly, despite the explosions erupting all around her.

"Your side is losing, Caine," Cody replied, raising his weapon. "You should leave while you can."

Caine smirked. "You know I won't do that, commander," she said. "I'm not running away."

Cody fell silent for a moment, suddenly unsure. His orders demanded that he slaughter every enemy on the battlefield, and until then, he had executed those orders flawlessly. But this woman…his ties to her were deeper than to any other.

"Let's finish this, Cody," Caine said solemnly.

She held up her weapon to fire. Cody moved fast, aimed, and they both discharged their blasters. Caine's shot went wide, but Cody's struck her weapon, shattering it, the pieces ricocheting into her slim form, sending her backward, falling.

Falling…

She seemed to fall forever, and Cody could not tear his eyes away, could not even blink.

She missed him on purpose.

When she finally hit the ground with a thud so loud Cody thought his ears would burst. She was lifeless, the blood covering her face, her body.

"Mona," he inhaled sharply, dropping his blaster rifle at his side, never pulling his eyes from her fragile form. He had always followed orders without question, slaughtered many without guilt or regret, anything for the sake of the mission. But suddenly that delusion was ripped from him. He had a choice. He could have missed, just as she did, on purpose. He had shot the woman he loved for a reason that didn't even seem to matter to him anymore.

He rushed to her side, hoping, praying there was something that could save her, vowing to find a way to protect her. If she survived, he'd never leave her side again.

"Commander?"

"I promise," he said to her.

"Cody?"

"Mona?"

"Wake up, Cody."

Cody's eyes shot open, only then realizing he had fallen asleep at her bedside, and looked straight into a mismatched gaze.

"Caine?" he asked, still a little disoriented. "Are you all right?"

Caine barely nodded before Cody wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. She instantly tensed in his arms.

"Commander?" she said, confused. "Is everything…okay?"

Cody quickly came to his senses and pulled away. For a moment, he had forgotten things were different now ever since then. Some days he wondered if she even still remembered how things once were. Though he guessed it mattered little now, so long as he could stay by her side.

Before he had wondered if he knew then what cruel twists fate had in store, would he still have stayed with her that night long ago?

Undoubtedly, yes.

"By the way, commander," Caine began, "where are we, and why haven't I gotten to shoot anyone yet?"

------------------

Later that day, Kavar and Carina were summoned along with a few other knights and their apprentices to the Jedi Council room. Carina had gone reluctantly, and Kavar had had to almost drag her there.

Carina did not want to be around such highly esteemed masters when her senses and emotions were running rampant. She knew that if she opened her mouth, everything was going to come tumbling out and she'd get both her and Kavar in trouble. On second thought, that idea didn't sound so bad. She was so angry and frustrated with Kavar that she could barely think straight without seeing a haze of red.

He had lied to her. The council had lied to her. She barely knew herself, and now she found out she obviously hadn't been a very nice person because someone had placed a bounty on her head. It explained a lot, but she still felt like something was missing. In her heart, there was an empty spot—like a hole that wasn't being filled—but she knew not why. She only knew it hurt whenever she had a moment's peace to dwell on it and mourn her forgotten past.

_Why me?_ she often asked herself. After all, she hadn't done anything to anyone (that she could remember) to earn such a meaningless existence. Seeing that Jedi knight earlier—Igrayne, she believed her name was—brought a few flashes of her previous life to her mind's eye.

She'd seen panicked faces, death, pain, and suffering. She had heard screaming and felt the heat of a lightsaber close. Then the image had stopped, leaving her speechless and awed. She did not know what it was or what it was about, but it frightened her and she had no one to take comfort in.

Kavar was her master, but obviously not by his choice nor hers, and he often acted as if he'd rather her be dead than be his padawan. That made her feel lower than dirt, but she tried to keep up a powerful facade anyway, if only for her sanctity of mind.

"Do not say anything to incriminate yourself, padawan," Kavar warned her before entering the council room.

"I never do."

"That's debatable."

Carina merely rolled her eyes. A typical response from her Jedi master who adored her so much! Or not. She could care less though since even if he did it wouldn't matter; there was still that hole she couldn't fill.

They entered the room and stood idly in the middle of it. The council sat around them and looked curiously at them before surveying the other knights and padawans who had joined them.

"We have brought you here to give you an assignment of the highest importance," Vrook began. "You must all go to Telos and aid in the restoration project there."

Kavar wanted to object because he did not believe Carina was ready to venture out beyond the Jedi Temple, and he would have difficulty explaining to her their reasons for doing so given the fact she now believed a bounty had been placed upon her head. But Kavar knew it would be futile, for the council obviously had something in mind for the young Jedi.

"Yes, masters," they all said in unison before bowing and exiting the room.

Kavar had a bad feeling about this.

------------------

Evy stood precariously on the counter on her tip toes, reaching for the sterile bandages she needed on the top shelf. Frustrated, she grabbed onto the shelving unit with her other hand, trying to pull herself up to gain that extra precious inch. With the extra help, her toes were barely touching the counter now, but Evy realized too late that it was a bad idea. The shelving unit shuddered, and before she could regain her footing, the whole thing began to pull away from the wall. Recognizing that she would be crushed if she tried to stay on the counter, she hung on to one of the shelves with both of her hands. The unit pulled away from the wall, groaning in the terrible sound of metal being wrenched away from metal. Luckily, some of the rivets held, and Evy dangled, trying to decide how to get down without the shelving unit falling on top of her.

"Oh great. After all the things I've been through I better not die by getting crushed by shelves in a medical storage room!" Evy complained as she began to realize her situation was not a good one.

She had to do something soon; her fingertips were beginning to slip on the smooth metal surface, and she was sure that if she fell suddenly to the ground, the shelves would come down on her. The unit took another hideous shudder and the terrible creaking began again. Just as Evy thought she was a goner, a pair of strong hands clasped around her waist and pulled at her. Evy let go of her slipping grip on the shelf, allowing her savior to jerk her to the side and out of the way of the deadly falling unit.

She flinched, the strong arms now around her, as the metal came tumbling down beside her in a resounding crash. Even before she buried her head against his chest, she knew it was Atton. He held her there, even when the room became silent, as she tried to control her shaking.

"It's all right, sweets, you're okay," Atton whispered to her as he ran his fingers comfortingly through her long blonde locks.

Finally regaining her composure, she peeked over his shoulder at the mess she'd made. The medical supplies were strewn all over the floor and several glass bottles were shattered, their contents pooling on the floor. The worst was the mangled metal, sharp and shining. Evy shuddered one last time as she thought about how she would have been under all of that if it wasn't for Atton's involvement.

"Are you hurt?" Atton asked, concern crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Still slightly shocked, she pulled away from him and looked down at herself. She was unscathed.

"No… I'm okay," she answered, looking back up to him.

"You need to be more careful, Evy," Atton replied.

Maybe it was because her heart was pounding so hard from the prior fright, or maybe it was the genuine concern in Atton's eyes, but whatever it was, Evy found her face moving speedily forward toward Atton's. Her lips met his and her kiss was fervent. Atton returned it, but he allowed Evy to lead the contact.

Her heart burned with a need to be with him. The past few days had been hard on them, and they had rarely seen each other. They were still technically fighting, neither backing down from their stance, but at this moment, Evy just needed the reminder that he wanted her as much as she desired him. After an intense kiss, Evy pulled away, remembering the patient who waited for the bandage she had come in here to retrieve. She stood up, straightening out her uniform and tucking back a few pieces of hair that fell from her ponytail. She scanned the mess in front of her and found the cursed bandages near a box of scalpels.

"Sweets…" Atton said, picking himself off the floor.

Evy swirled around to him. She still felt that lurch in her heart whenever she saw the man she loved, but she knew she would not give in.

"Come on, Evy. This arguing…it's stupid…"

"Stupid? You think it is stupid that I want to marry you and you don't believe in marriage?"

"That's not what I meant…"

Evy crossed her arms in front of her, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor. She knew she was being difficult, but what else was she to do? If she stopped making it an issue, then Atton would just assume she didn't feel strongly about it.

Atton sighed, looking for a moment like a defeated man. It didn't help Evy's resolve any; it just made her want to hug him and tell him to forget about the whole thing, but she couldn't do that.

"Atton, I love you, but I can't give this up. Even if you don't believe in marriage, I do, and I want to marry you, but only if that is what you want, too…"

"I'm sorry," he said, shrugging and trying to look casual, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was not feeling indifferent about this.

"There is nothing to be sorry about," she replied in a clipped tone of voice. "You can't force yourself to want something you don't."

Her pale green eyes held his deep brown ones in a steady gaze. Both were battling their own conflicting emotions more than they were fighting one another.

"Evy! You have another patient!" Mical's voice sounded in the hallway, and Evy suddenly remembered the mess behind her.

"Evy, you ha—" Mical began to say as he strode through the door. But when he saw the state of the storage room, his words cut off.

Evy tried to keep her face from breaking out into an embarrassed blush, but she wasn't succeeding.

"Are… are you all right?" Mical finally asked, tearing his eyes away from the destruction.

"Yes, I'm so sorry. I was reaching for the bandages and then I leaned too much weight on the shelves and they began to fall," Evy tried to explain, her hands moving around too much as she spoke, as they often did when she was nervous.

Mical then smiled at her, his lips stretching out under his scruffy, golden stubble. "It's quite all right, Evy. I'll send someone in here to clean."

"Thank you," Evy said, smiling back at him. She had become much better acquainted with the handsome and brokenhearted doctor due to all the time she had spent working with him.

"Oh… hello, Atton," Mical said as he finally noticed the scoundrel leaning against the wall.

"Hey, Blondie," Atton answered.

Mical didn't comment on the nickname because now it had become almost a sign of affection from Atton. Atton would never forget that Mical was the one who had saved the use of his leg, and even his life, all those months ago.

"Rani is here; she's unconscious," Mical said to Evy.

"What?! Is she injured?" Evy asked, forgetting her problems with Atton for the moment.

"No, I think an emotional episode triggered the blackout. She was being interviewed, and she was asked about Destrik."

"Oh my Force!" Evy said, her hand going to her mouth. Who had told the press about Destrik?

"Han is here, too, but I will attend to him, as his injuries are more serious."

Evy nodded and walked out, leaving Atton to his thoughts.

When Evy walked into the small room that Rani had been put in, she was struck by the pallor of her friend. Trentyn leaned against the wall, staring at the motionless form of his sister, while Admiral Onasi did the same thing, seated beside Rani's bed and holding her limp hand.

"Kitten!" Tren said by way of greeting when he saw the nurse.

She smiled at him quickly before approaching Rani.

"Evy," Carth said, looking relieved to see her. "Will she be okay?"

Evy smiled at the admiral. "I'm sure she will be. Let me just do a quick examination."

Carth leaned back from the bed, giving Evy some room, but he did not let go of Rani's hand. Despite the circumstances, Evy smiled slightly at this. She had always wished the best for Carth and Rani, and had seen their relationship from the very beginning. It was nice to see them happy.

Evy checked her friend's blood pressure, heart rate, temperature, and pupil dilation, all while Tren watched annoyingly over her shoulder.

"Her hair's pulled back too tight, and her temperature's a bit high… She'll be fine, she just needs to be cooled down and put into a comfortable position, and then she'll regain consciousness. There's no damage done," Evy said, giving her professional instructions.

"The reporter… She knew about Destrik. She asked Rani questions about him, that bitch," Tren complained.

"Yes, the trigger for her passing out definitely was emotional," Evy said, staring back at her friend's face. She felt sorry for Rani. The woman had already been through so much and struggled so hard to escape her past, and now it was being thrown right back at her.

Evy walked over to a cabinet, pulling out a robe.

"Her hair needs to be taken down and she needs to be changed into this," Evy said, holding the soft clothing in her hands.

"I can do it," Carth said, taking the bundle from Evy. "Thank you, Evy."

"I'll…uh…go somewhere," Tren said, looking uncomfortable. He loved his sister, but he didn't want to see her naked if he didn't have to.

"Atton's around here somewhere if you want to talk to him," Evy said to Trentyn.

"I'd rather spend time with you, Kitten," Tren replied flirtatiously.

"Sorry, I've still got a patient to see," Evy said with a triumphant smile.

Tren laughed and walked out, and Evy followed him, pausing to close the door behind her. Right before the doors closed, she caught a final glimpse of Carth gently but quickly unbraiding Rani's long hair.

Evy went back to the main patient room, where she finally bandaged the arm of the patient who had been waiting for her since before the storage room incident. Once finished with that, Evy walked toward her office to look at her patients' charts.

"Evy?"

She turned to see Igrayne and Bao-Dur waiting in the hallway.

"Hi!" she said, embracing Igrayne. She hadn't seen her friend in a little while.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked.

"We brought Han in. He's badly burned on his back. He and Indy were attacked." Igrayne was unnaturally solemn and her eyes look guarded. Evy dismissed her friend's demeanor as simply a consequence of the attack on Han and Indy.

"Rani's here, too. She passed out while doing a live interview. Apparently the reporter started asking her about Destrik."

Igrayne looked as shocked as Evy had felt when she heard the news. Even Bao-Dur's eyes widened slightly at the news.

"Something strange is going on here. I mean, there have been too many attacks and coincidences," Evy continued, her mind working furiously.

Igrayne began to say something until Evy heard her name being called over the intercom.

"Damn it! I'm sorry, I have to go," Evy called over her shoulder as she hurried to the emergency section.

There she found a couple medical assistants fluttering over a patient. One turned as she walked in.

"Nurse La Sange, thank the Force you are here. This man is badly injured."

Evy pushed past the assistant to view the patient. He was male and looked to be in his early thirties, but she could not be sure because his face was puffy and bleeding. With professional restraint, she drew her eyes away to look at the rest of his body. He had other injuries, too, the most startling one on his leg, which was bent at an odd angle and obviously badly broken. After viewing the injuries of the man, Evy thought about asking for Mical's help but knew he was busy with Han.

"Who is he?" Evy asked on a whim, as she gathered her instruments to clean the man's wounds.

"Uh… well… we don't know. He had no forms of identification on him," an assistant answered.

"Okay well, test for his blood type and get back to me…"

"So, where did he come from?" Evy asked as she began to clean the wounds of the unknown patient.

"Someone found him in an alleyway and brought him in," one of the other nurses replied. "He's been unconscious ever since. Nobody seemed to recognize him, so we don't think he's from around here."

Evy nodded. "Well, we'll have time to figure out who he is later. But for now, let's start him on some pain relievers and get him on an IV. He's lost a lot of fluids."

"Nurse Le Sange, what about his leg?" one of the assistants asked, apparently a bit shaken by the man's appearance.

"I'll need to examine it before we can do anything else for him."

As Evy finished cleaning the man's minor wounds, the assistants gave her some room to finish her examination. With the careful hands of a healer, she gently began to cut away the man's pant leg in order to better observe his injuries. As his wounds were revealed, Evy bit her lip and winced. The sight before her was a gruesome one. The man's leg appeared to have several fractures, but the most disturbing aspect of it, however, was the fact that white splinters of bone were protruding through the skin at a peculiar angle. Several of the other medical assistants gasped at the sight of it, and others looked on the verge of becoming ill. However, Evy took professional charge of the situation.

"All right, he's got several breaks, including an open fracture. Get him down to the ICU for an x-ray immediately. He'll need an operation as soon as possible in order to repair the damage that's been done."

In a matter of seconds, the various medical workers wheeled the man out of the room and down the hallway, leaving Evy standing alone once again. Since there was nothing she could do for the man at the moment, she decided to make her usual rounds through the facility. She had scarcely entered the hallway when another assistant approached her.

"Evy, there's a patient waiting for you in room 418."

"Okay, I'll be there shortly."

Evy absentmindedly made her way to room 418, pausing every few seconds to briefly check on a couple of her other patients. When she finally entered the room, she was utterly surprised to see Tren sitting on the examination table, cradling his left hand.

"Hey, Kitten!" he said, smiling widely at her.

"Tren? What are you doing here?" she asked, entering the room and approaching her friend. "I thought you were with Rani and Carth."

"The admiral was too busy cuddling with my sister and taking her clothes off, so I left. And then I decided to hurt myself just so I could come and see your pretty face," he joked, still smiling.

Despite his flirtatious attitude, Evy didn't look amused.

"Oh, haha. Very funny. Now tell me what really happened."

"Well, the part about my sis and Carth was the truth. But I hurt my hand trying to help out around the facility. I ran into Atton and he showed me the mess you made in the storage room, so we thought we'd be helpful for a change and clean it up. And then I cut myself on a piece of metal…"

"Well that was foolish!" Evy exclaimed, shaking her head. "We have janitors for that, you know."

Tren shrugged. "Yeah, I know. But Atton and I don't have much else to do these days. And besides, you guys look like you need all the help you can get."

"Well, I appreciate the sentiment, Tren, but it was unnecessary."

"I can't just let my chivalrous nature go unheeded, though," Tren said seriously before he once again broke into a grin. "Hah! Try saying that with a straight face!"

Evy laughed, feeling momentarily relieved from her stress. She was even more grateful to have Trentyn as a friend. Despite the fact he was injured, she was glad he had offered her a brief relief from her hectic schedule.

"Okay, 'Sir Trentyn,' let's take a look at your hand…"

Evy took Tren's hand in hers, carefully looking over the laceration he had suffered. Luckily, it wasn't deep enough to need stitches, but it would certainly need to be cleansed. As Evy proceeded to clean and bandage his wound, Tren broke the silence that had fell between them.

"So what were you and Atton doing to cause the shelves to fall down, anyway?"

She raised an eyebrow at him in warning and Tren immediately regretted saying anything at all.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry…" he said, giving a slight chuckle. "I'll stop inquiring about your personal life. So how's my hand? Am I going to live?"

"You'll be fine. It's unlikely you'll get an infection, but I'm going to give you a tetanus shot just to be safe."

"Okay, whatever you say," Tren said indifferently. "You are the nurse, after all."

Tren watched as Evy readied a small syringe before rolling up his sleeve and cleaning a spot in his arm. He winced slightly as she stuck him with the needle, and despite his situation, a rather devious smile played upon his lips.

"You know, Kitten, after all the time we've known each other, I thought _I'd_ be the one sticking _you_, if ya know what I mean…"

Evy's jaw dropped as she finished giving him the injection, and Tren merely grinned at her. She could feel heat rising into her face as she blushed furiously, and she was at quite a loss for words for several moments. Evy suddenly had the horrible urge to slap the stupid smile right off his face, but luckily for him, one of her medical assistants entered the room.

"Miss Le Sange? We have the results of the x-rays from the man with the broken leg who came in earlier. Dr. Disciple is waiting for you."

"All right," Evy said, finally regaining her composure. "Tell him I'll be right with him."

"Leaving me already?" Tren asked, still grinning.

"Yes, there are people who are in need of my assistance."

"Well, so am I!" he said, his voice full of innuendo.

"Have a nice day, Tren," she said abruptly, before any other comments could escape from his mouth. As quickly as she could, she gathered her equipment and exited the room, closing the door behind her. Still feeling slightly flustered from her encounter with Tren, Evy made her way to the lab where the x-ray results were waiting. When she arrived, the room had already been darkened, as Mical intently observed the faintly glowing hologram of a human leg that flashed in the middle of the room.

"Hello, Mical," she greeted. "Done with Han and Indy already?"

"Yes, and they are both doing well, considering the circumstances. Han's burns were treated immediately and he will make a full recovery without any lasting complications, and Indy will be fine after a bit of rest."

Evy sighed, feeling relieved. She had been deeply worried about all of her friends, as some sort of trouble seemed to have befallen most of them.

"Well, that's good news…"

She came to stand beside Mical as she joined him in observing the hologram. Several lines in the bone structure clearly indicated where it had been broken.

"So, this is our new guy's leg, huh? It looks even worse on the inside," she said somewhat sarcastically.

Mical nodded. "Yes. It is badly fractured in three different areas. An unusual injury."

"Do you think he was in some sort of accident?" Evy asked, still regarding the hologram.

"It could be plausible, except for one minor detail," Mical said, gesturing toward the image. "Notice how the fractures are completely clean. In most accidents, the bones shatter on impact and are crushed, therefore causing the breaks to be ragged and imperfect. But this was not an impact fracture. They're far too clean."

Evy nodded as she realized what he was getting at. "So you think this was intentional?"

Mical shook his head, looking serious.

"I'm not saying anything as of yet, but the likelihood of being involved in a serious accident and surviving it with three perfectly clean fractures is incredibly unlikely."

"Looks like we have an interesting case on our hands," Evy said. "I guess we won't know anything until our patient wakes up."

"Yes, it certainly seems that way," Mical stated before turning the hologram off and flicking the lights back on. "There's no knowing when he'll regain consciousness, but when he does, I suggest you try to be there when he wakes up. I'm putting him under your care during his stay here. And with luck, we may be able to find out what happened to him."

"All right, sounds good. I'll make sure to keep a close eye on him."

-----------------

Her gleaming hair reflected the harsh lights of the corridor like an ebony mirror. Commander Cody followed her, keeping a watchful eye out for the both of them. Sometimes it seemed to Cody that Caine had no fear. As she walked, her shoulders were tall and proud, and her hips swayed gently to her quick, measured strides. He wondered silently, as he kept his careful guard, to what her lack of fear was due.

_Does she trust me that much, that she fears nothing while I am around? Or does she no longer care whether she lives or dies?_ Cody thought to himself.

Any outsider would be able to tell that Caine and Cody's connection was a deep one, but it was much harder to define their relationship. They usually interacted with such a seemingly comfortable manner that it was easy to miss the presence of the secrets that lay buried in each of their hearts and memories.

When they finally reached the Czerka offices, they strode right past the loudly protesting droid that served as the receptionist for this installment of the corporation. Caine did not slow her pace until a very odorous Gamorrean blocked her path. Cody skidded to a stop directly behind Caine as he surveyed the scene in the main room. More than a few mercenaries of differing species had been milling about the room, but with Caine and Cody's arrival, all eyes were on them.

The commander grimaced under his helmet as he realized the load of trouble they were in. He'd attempted to talk Caine out of her decision to speak to Jana Lorso again because he'd known she would not be pleased with the escape of Rheya Pollard, hero of the Republic and keeper of the Sith holocron. Cody waited with bated breath, his hand ready to snatch his blaster should he need it.

"Would you kindly move?" Caine asked the Gamorrean that blocked her way to Lorso's office.

Cody couldn't see her face, but he'd seen her in similar situations many times, and he knew that now she would be flashing her misleadingly sweet smile.

The Gamorrean simply grunted in response, resting the head of his enormous axe on his green, plump shoulder.

Commander Cody's hand tingled with anticipation; he knew what was coming next.

"Move it, piggy!" Caine demanded, pulling out her own blaster and pressing the end of it to the Gamorrean's sagging double-chin.

It let out a high-pitched squeal, its heavy axe falling to the ground with a crash. Gamorreans were cowards at heart. Cody had his blaster out only a split second behind Caine, and he kept aiming at different mercenaries in the room, trying to predict which ones would be the most dangerous.

"Enough!" A gruff feminine voice permeated the room.

Caine did not move, still pushing her blaster into the folds of the Gamorrean's fleshy neck. She obviously did not like to be ignored. Cody turned his helmeted head slightly to the side, his blaster still up and aiming, and could see Jana Lorso standing outside the now open door to her office.

"You two, in here, now! And the rest of you, mind your own damn business! I'm not paying you to kill each other!" Jana barked, her demands arrogantly executed, yet irresistibly authoritative.

When the Gamorrean thundered away, he left a puddle of urine where he had once stood. Caine stared at it as she lowered her blaster with an expression mild disgust, and yet there was a strange gleam in her undamaged eye.

Cody had an overwhelming desire to pull Caine away from the stinking pool of piss and get them out of this place, but he resisted. This was what Caine had insisted they do, and he would do naught but follow her and protect her if he must.

Once they both entered Lorso's office, the door swished closed right behind them and clicked ominously… They were locked in. The room was oddly dark for an office, and Jana sat behind her desk, her face still and expressionless. Caine had both eyes locked on Jana's, though only one was seeing her. Cody used the concealing nature of his helmet to their benefit as he allowed his eyes to roam around the room, but his head stayed completely still. Several trained guards stood on the periphery of the room, barely visible in the gloom.

"Where is the list?" Jana demanded, her face still blank.

"Here," Caine answered, unsmiling as she patting her pants pocket.

"I do believe the name Rheya Pollard was on it," Jana continued, her face now distorting into a sneer.

"Why, I do believe you are right," Caine responded mockingly. Even her face displayed the same evil expression that Jana Lorso had.

Cody suppressed a peculiar urge to laugh.

"Enough of your games! I don't know how you are still alive with all the bullshit you spew," Jana said scathingly.

Caine couldn't care less what the woman thought of her, but she still would not allow anyone to speak to her like that and get away with it.

"I don't know how no one has killed you yet with your bitchy attitude," Caine retorted. Her words were insulting, but her manner was surprisingly menacing.

"I will give you one last chance to prove you are worth the money I am spending on your services," Lorso responded. Her face showed no signs of fear, but Cody noticed the slight quiver of her fingers.

"Get the holocron and kill the archeologist? Is that still the dirty desire of Czerka?" Caine questioned, her manner calmer now that she, too, realized Jana was frightened of her.

"No, the Jedi are now involved with the protection of Rheya and the holocron, thanks to the wonderful decision-making abilities of you two," Lorso responded, sarcasm dripping in her last words.

"He was supposed to be Logga's man; how were we supposed to know that Solo would free her?" Cody finally spoke up, his voice metallic sounding from under his helmet.

"That's why I won't kill you…yet," Lorso said, grinning.

"Get to the job, Lorso," Caine commanded. Cody was shocked Caine was even considering staying and working for Jana Lorso. He would have guessed she would be long gone by now, but Caine was often unpredictable.

Jana frowned slightly at Caine's abrupt manner, but continued anyway. "Dispose of the next person on the list."

A quarter of an hour later, Caine and Cody found themselves walking down the corridors of Citadel Station yet again. Cody had no idea where they were going or what Caine's plan was, but he followed her nevertheless.

Suddenly, Caine stopped mid-stride and swiveled around to face Cody. Her eyes were blazing, her red eye glowing dangerously. She pulled out a folded up piece of paper from her pocket and pressed it into the commander's hand. Even though he was wearing gauntlets and she was wearing gloves, his hand still felt hot where the pressure of her fingers had been.

"What do you notice about this list?" Caine asked, looking at him expectantly.

Cody unfurled the paper and studied the names on the paper. There were about a dozen names, and all of them seemed familiar, though he could only place a few of them. He shook his head, not understanding what Caine was getting at.

"Every name is that of a hero from the last battle between the Republic and the Sith," she said pointedly.

Cody scanned the names again. Each name was a recipient of the Cross of Glory from the Battle of Dantooine. "Why would Jana Lorso want them dead?"

"Well, one's obvious. Rani Taraster is one of Czerka's staunchest opponents. And the others—her brother, her admiral boyfriend…" Caine continued to speak softly in hushed tones; she didn't have everything figured out. She just noticed the patterns in the names, and was curious to find out why such a corporation like Czerka would feel the need to have the supposed "Saviors of the Republic" murdered. Sure, Czerka was not a company known to have much of a conscience. They were a corporation fueled by profit, not goodwill, but for Czerka to be outright criminal…now that was interesting.

"What's the plan?" Cody asked, shifting his weight slightly. Obviously Caine was on to something.

"Let's go find this Captain John Mithic," she said, her expression changing from confused to ardent.

"I'm guessing you're anxious to use your blaster," Cody offered, a slight smile hidden under his helmet.

Caine could hear the smile in his voice. "As much as the prospect of making someone mess their pants again is appealing to me, I'm afraid we'll have to settle for talking."

----------------------------------

Jana Lorso held her head in her hands while she sat in complete silence and darkness in her now empty office. All she had wanted was more money and more power, but she had gotten herself in such a mess that she wondered just how many days she had left to live. As much as the mercenary known to her simply as "Caine" annoyed her, the woman with one red eye was Jana's final hope. If Caine couldn't succeed, then no one would be able to, and Jana would be killed.

Her dark thoughts enveloped her as she wondered if there would even still be a body left after "the Shadow" was done with her. The hooded figure was rarely seen and was simply known by that enigmatic name. A lone tear squeezed out of the edge of Jana's eye as she realized that even if she did have a body left after the Shadow had followed through on his promise, no one would ever cry over her corpse. She had always been too ambitious and too busy to have a personal life. Her lack of loved ones never seemed to matter to her until now…now that her mortality faced her.

How had she been so short-sighted? If she had been smart and followed her instincts, she would have never gotten mixed up with the Shadow and whatever master he represented. The only reason Jana had agreed to work with him was because Logga the Hutt had spoken highly of the rewards he received through working with him. Jana had already made billions of creds by the concealed relationship she forged for Czerka with the Exchange, and her greed had led her to agree to do the bidding of the hooded figure, despite her many doubts.

The worst part was she had nothing to barter in exchange for her life. Jana knew nothing about the Shadow, and this left her with no defense. Her hands began to shake harder as her fear threatened to suffocate her. Her breaths came in ragged sobs now, and Jana knew that worse things than her death would happen to the galaxy because of the Shadow…

----------------------------------------

"Now try to keep your breathing as even as possible. It may take a little while to aim, so you don't want to completely hold your breath, but a little movement can throw your aim off a lot, so make sure to control your breaths," Captain John Mithic instructed the Jawa known as Friz.

"Me gets it, ginormous magic man," the Jawa answered, with R9 translating his words into Basic.

"Okay, miniature man, take your best shot then," Mithic answered goodnaturedly.

"Me not man; me proud to be Jawa," Friz retorted.

"It's just a figure of…oh never mind, just shoot the target," Mithic said. Sometimes it felt like he could never win a verbal battle with the headstrong Jawa.

The little creature began by carefully aiming the sniper rifle toward the training dummies on the other end of the room. Right as he was pulling the trigger, Mithic noticed the Jawa had gotten too excited and was aiming the sniper as one would a blaster. The captain's warning came too late, and Friz's shots were off—way off. Mithic dove and dodged out of the stream of ricocheted shots that came out of the sniper rifle he was "training" with. Finally, the Jawa stopped, probably after dodging one of the errant charges. Mithic quickly yanked the weapon from the Jawa's grasp.

"Thank the Force no one else was in this training room! You didn't even hit anywhere near the target! You hit the side walls! No one ever shoots the side walls, man!" Mithic ranted as he caught his breath.

"Me proud to be Jawa! And me not like stupid sniper!"

"All right, that's enough training for today. We should head out before someone comes to investigate the noise," Mithic said with a sigh.

"Rude to kill without seeing them face, anyway," the Jawa responded as they walked out of one of the training rooms.

Captain Mithic and the yellow-eyed creature walked the halls with R9 following them. John often wondered what people thought of the Jawa, but he figured the creature was often hidden in the hordes of other aliens that visited Citadel Station.

"Should we go to _The Orbiting Star_?" Mithic asked his new companion.

He really wanted a drink, but he was wondering if he should stay at his small apartment in case Admiral Onasi was looking for him. The captain had been one of the Heroes of the Republic at the Battle of Dantooine, but he'd never gotten too close to any of the other "heroes" besides the Admiral. Mithic had been as shocked as the rest of the public when the information about Rani being the former fiancée of the Sith lord came out. From what little he personally knew of the woman, she was beautiful and seemed decent enough, but a part of him had always wondered just how Rani had become a "hero" like the rest of them. Sure, she was an amazing shot with a blaster, but other than that she had few battle skills.

"No like bad-tasting drinkee," the Jawa complained.

Mithic laughed at the memory of the time Friz had spit out his Corellian ale.

"Okay, fine, we won't go to the cantina then," Mithic said regretfully. Night had fallen, and he was sure it would be the most entertaining place on the station.

Before Mithic could ponder where to go next, the woman with the red eye and the armored man he had once seen in the cantina came striding around the corner of the corridor, almost bowling the poor Jawa over in their haste.

"Hey, watch it!" Mithic warned while making sure his small friend was okay.

When Mithic's eyes returned to the woman and her companion, the woman had an eerie glint in her good eye.

"Hello, Captain Mithic," the woman greeted with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"What do you want?" John questioned gruffly. He had tried to lay low since the Battle of Dantooine, and his face was a pleasant one, but not very distinct or memorable. He liked it that way. The fewer people who recognized him, the better, as far as he was concerned.

"Merely to speak with you. Will that be a problem?" the woman asked with a slightly threatening tone.

Mithic was not worried about this woman or even her armored companion, but he was slightly intrigued. Besides, through the Force, he could sense this moment was significant for some reason.

"Who are you? And who is your friend?" he demanded.

"I'm Caine, and this is Cody," she answered. "Happy now? Let's go to the cantina and find a nice little secluded table in the corner where we can talk."

The captain stared at Caine for a few moments, trying to judge her character. He took little notice of Cody, assuming him just to be her protector of sorts. He could tell Caine was definitely the decision-maker. Once Mithic was satisfied that Caine wouldn't try to hurt him or Friz, at least for the time being, he strode off toward the cantina, assuming the others would follow him. They did.

"These military types are all the same," Caine mumbled to Cody when Mithic was out of earshot.

-----------------

Igrayne, Bao-Dur, and Indy crowded into Han's medical room, staring down at his blistered back. Dr. Disciple had treated the scoundrel the best he could and gave him some pain killers, but the best way to heal now was just to rest.

"Indy, I need to get you off of this planet," Han said. He lay on his stomach on the bed as Mical applied some salve and began bandaging his back.

"I'm not leaving just when things are getting interesting," Indy replied, tipping her fedora back for a moment.

"Yes, you are leaving. It's too dangerous here for you," Han stated.

"Listen to me, Han. Unless you want to tell me why everyone's so Force-damned interested in stealing the Sith holocron from me, then I'm staying. I'm going to figure out what's so important about it." Indy's eyes lit up as she said this, and Igrayne could tell the archeologist was not going to change her mind.

"I knew Logga wanted it, and Czerka too, but I don't think they wanted it for themselves. I don't think they even know what that holocron contains," Han answered, upset that he had so little information about it. He had started dealing with the Exchange, making smuggling runs, just so he had enough money to live. But once he had heard Indy's name, Rheya, being mentioned between Logga and one of his higher men. After that, he involved himself with the Exchange as much as he could so he could find out what they wanted with Indy and how he could protect her.

"Don't you find it even the least bit interesting? I need to find out why it's so important and who wants it." Indy said, confident she would win this argument.

Han sighed, closing his eyes tightly. The day had been an incredibly draining one, and as much as he did not want Indy hurt, he was finding her obstinacy exhausting.

Igrayne watched the scene and made an important decision. "Bao and I will help you, Indy. Something is going on here, and you aren't the first to notice it."

Bao-Dur looked at her but said nothing. She sensed acquiesce in his silence.

"I was staying with Rani and Carth, but I don't think it would be fair to keep such a dangerous and sought-after artifact in their apartment. That would be just asking for more trouble," Indy said.

Everyone tried to avoid talking about the past and the Battle of Dantooine too much. They had won, but it had been a trying time for them all. And the fact that so much information was being made public about the ordeal disturbed them all. That information had been purposely kept secret, and only a few others besides the Jedi and the "Heroes of the Republic" knew the entire truth. Who was leaking the information to the public?

"My apartment is open to you again, Igrayne and Bao-Dur, as well as you, Indy and Han. It gets lonely with just me, and I am rarely there anyway. Please stay at my apartment," Mical offered kindly as he worked.

"That would be a good idea. We can keep the holocron safe and also protect Indy there," Bao said to Igrayne quietly, so that only she could hear it.

"Thank you, Mical," Igrayne said to the doctor with a warm smile.

Mical finished bandaging Han up and helped the man to sit. Indy helped Han put on a shirt while Mical instructed them. "You will need to change the dressings and clean the burns at least once a day, and try not to do anything too strenuous while the skin is still healing."

Mical handed Indy a bag of salve and bandaging materials as well as some painkillers. "You should go back to my apartment and rest now," Mical said.

Bao-Dur took the bag from Indy so she could put her arm around Han to help him walk. Igrayne smiled a bit at the scene. It was obvious to her that Han was not currently in any pain and could walk just fine, but the couple seemed to be reconciling and would use any excuse to get their hands on one another.

"You take them back to Mical's apartment. I'll go get the holocron from Carth and Rani's place," Igrayne told the Zabrak Jedi.

"Be careful," he advised her with a slight concerned tone. He still was not sure if she had recovered from seeing Carina alive.

"I will," she said, turning and leaving.

As she walked, her hand kept brushing past her lightsaber that was attached to her belt. She was a Jedi knight now, but that didn't stop her from still feeling slightly anxious on missions. Igrayne had not been part of the Jedi for long, but she sometimes felt like she had always been a Jedi.

On her way, she saw a familiar face she hadn't seen in some time.

"Bastila?" Igrayne asked, stepping toward the robed figure.

When Bastila's face came into the bright lights of the corridor, Igrayne noticed a bit of wetness under the other Jedi woman's eyes.

"Igrayne, congratulations on becoming a Jedi knight," Bastila said, her voice slightly nasal, as if her nose was stuffy from crying.

"Thank you. Are you okay?" Igrayne had never felt particularly warm toward Bastila, but she was acquainted enough with her to care about her.

"I…I am fine," Bastila said, almost of the verge of tears.

"If you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen," Igrayne said sympathetically.

Bastila sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Thank you. I didn't expect to find anyone I knew out here."

"Yeah, well, Citadel Station isn't the most expansive of places."

"Getting a little restless here?" Bastila asked, grateful for the change in topic.

"Not too much. It's nice to see everyone after all this time, even if it isn't under the best of circumstances."

"Yes, even the council suspects something. They sent several Jedi here, including Master Kavar," Bastila said.

Igrayne's heart pounded. Kavar was here? Well, if he was here, then his padawan must be. She wondered if Bastila knew Carina was alive.

"Oh? And who else came?" Igrayne said, forcing a casual tone.

"I'm not sure exactly. I haven't met with them yet. I just got back from a fly-by over the surface."

"How does it look?" Igrayne asked, her concern for the planet temporarily overshadowing her desire to know what Bastila knew of Carina.

"There is progress, but the planet is still healing. The Ithorians' plans are going as well as can be expected considering how many times their projects have been sabotaged."

"Wow, is it that bad?"

"Yes, worse even. There are even reports of mercenaries on the surface of Telos IV," Bastila said. "I'm considering asking Carth for some Republic soldiers to protect important installments on the planet."

"That would be a good idea. You should probably wait until tomorrow morning, though. Last I checked, he was still at the medical facility with Rani."

"How is she?" Bastila asked with more concern than Igrayne expected.

"She will be fine. She just needs to slow down her schedule a bit," Igrayne reassured Bastila.

"That reminds me… The council is also concerned about how all of this information is being made public."

"I bet they are. We're all wondering the same thing." Igrayne agreed with the council about this one; such an exposure of secret information was disturbing.

Bastila nodded, her eyes now free of tears.

"Well, I have to go, but remember that I am here if you wish to talk to someone," Igrayne said as she left the pretty blue-eyed woman.

Igrayne finally made it to the apartment and entered. She was grateful Rani had trusted her enough to allow her access to the apartment whenever she needed it. The apartment was fairly dark; the only illumination was the lights from the city coming through the huge window that covered one entire wall of the common room. She was hesitant to turn on the lights, even if the apartment seemed empty, so she merely entered the nearest room, hoping it was Indy's. As soon as the door swished open, Igrayne saw a dark shadow dart across the room from the small bed toward her. The figure was so fast that she had no time to get to her lightsaber before the man had her arms pulled behind her and firmly in his grip.

"Who are you?" a raspy voice whispered into her ear. She thought she felt a graze of stubble from the man's chin.

"I mean you no harm," she said, her voice misleadingly calm.

"Then why are you here?" he asked again. His voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"I should ask you the same. This is my friend's apartment," she offered, sensing that the man had merely been startled; he did not want to harm her.

"You know the admiral?" he asked.

"Yes, and Rani."

He immediately released her and then activated the lights. Her eyes had already begun to adjust to the dark, so when the lights assaulted her eyes, she needed a few moments to recover her sight. When she finally did, she had a hard time believing what she saw.

"Dustil?!"

He looked different, older and more mature, more of a man, and this bothered Igrayne. At least all signs of the dark side were gone, though.

Dustil looked her up and down and smiled. It was not a kind smile, but it was not evil either. He merely looked amused.

"Igrayne, I never thought I'd see you again."

"The feeling is mutual," Igrayne answered, still slightly unbelieving.

"The last time I saw you, you were wearing much more flattering attire than Jedi robes," he said almost lecherously.

Igrayne repressed anger as she realized Dustil must have been invoking the memory of her nakedness to his mind. Besides, when the time had come, Dustil had not forced himself on her, and had even allowed her and Bao to escape…

"Thank you," she said with much difficulty, but she needed to say it.

Dustil looked surprised; the lascivious look fled his face. "For what?"

"On the ship, you did not have to let me go, but you did."

Dustil stared at the floor, and Igrayne could tell that he still hadn't resolved his issues with the past.

"Are you still with that Zabrak?" he finally questioned, his eyes meeting Igrayne's for a moment.

"Yes, Bao-Dur and I are…together still."

He nodded in answer, looking satisfied.

"I just came to pick something up and then I'll be out of here. Look, does your father know that you've come back?"

"I don't know. Trentyn and Atton are helping me for the time being. They said I should stay here for a while."

Igrayne nodded thoughtfully. "Well, they should be back soon with Carth and Rani. I know your father will be pleased to see you here."

"Yeah…" Dustil said, looking like he was feeling awkward.

Igrayne smiled and left Dustil there, finally finding Indy's room and pocketing the Sith holocron. She looked at the clay artifact only long enough to identify it as what she was looking for. Something told her it was dangerous, and she doubted she could open it on her own even if she wanted to.

Praying for no more delays, and hoping there would be no more late-night encounters, Igrayne made her way to Mical's apartment, where Bao-Dur, Indy, and Han would be awaiting her.

--------------------

Carina tossed and turned by her sleep, haunted by nightmares…or were they memories?

She saw the new Jedi knight, Igrayne, but she wasn't dressed in Jedi robes. She wore a nurse's uniform, and she was bending over a patient on a planet Carina couldn't recognize. She then saw a woman with long blonde hair and a kind face who was also dressed like a nurse, walking beside a tall, ruggedly good-looking man. There was another unfamiliar face, a woman, wearing a brown hat and carrying a heavy-looking book. She saw two men, one older and one around her own age, with features similar to her own, yet their faces were twisted by the dark side. Carina also saw the senator-hopeful she had seen earlier that day on holovision while she sat in the waiting room in the medical facility. But the woman—Rani, Carina believed her name was—was badly bruised and crying in what looked like a medbay of a ship. Then Carina saw a strange, cavernous room with long spires that burst out of the floor in two concentric circles, and in the very middle was a glowing red center. Then a flash of blue eyes enveloped her vision, and a sense of calm, love, and passion overwhelmed Carina, followed by an overwhelming sense of loss.

She jerked awake, sitting up in her cot and panting heavily. Were those just strange dreams? Just figments of her imagination? Or were they more than that?

As Carina calmed her breathing down, the horrible feeling of loss would not leave her. The most striking image had been those heart-wrenching blue eyes, and Carina knew she had been in love with whomever they belonged to. If there was anything Carina knew she wanted, it was to be loved.

Anger began to infiltrate her emotions. She knew Kavar knew more about her and her past than he let on. She wanted answers.

Carina threw back the covers and left her bed, not even bothering to cover up her scanty nightgown with a robe. She padded across the room to the cot her master slept in and crouched down to look into his face. Suddenly, she remembered Kavar had blue eyes, and they looked very similar to the eyes she had seen in her dream. She became aware they were the only ones in the room, and she blushed slightly as she realized what she was about to do. Carina knew it was dramatic, but she figured she would have to do something drastic to get the answers she sought.

She bent her face down and lined her lips up to his. As she neared, a few strands of hair fell over her face and grazed Kavar's chin. He awoke just in time to receive her unexpected kiss. As soon as their lips met, it became a fiery kiss. Not only was Carina determined to get Kavar's attention, she also hoped that kissing him would bring back her lost memories. She was surprised at Kavar's response. He did not move anything but his lips, but they responded perfectly to Carina's. Finally, overcome with confusion, and disappointed that no more memories were resurfacing, she pulled away.

Kavar sat up in his bed, his eyes locked on Carina. Secretly, he was attracted to the young, brash woman, but his sense of responsibility to his station, in addition to his knowledge of her past, had kept him from ever acting on his fickle attraction.

"Were we lovers?" she asked him, her voice uncharacteristically small.

"No, what made you think that?" he asked, silently berating himself for kissing her back.

"Who am I?" Carina asked, ignoring Kavar's question.

"You are a Jedi padawan," he said, recovering his senses.

"That is different from who I was?"

"Why are you asking these things?"

"Don't I deserve to know?!" she asked, getting angry now.

Kavar scoffed. "No, you don't deserve to know, and if you were wise, you would heed my words and leave your past where it belongs…buried."

"Was I that horrible?" she asked, her voice cracking and tears springing to her eyes.

He said nothing, but the serious look on his face was all the answer she needed. Her tears flowed freely now.

"Was I a bounty hunter?"

"If only it were that simple," Kavar replied, clenching his jaw.

"I loved, too… I loved someone…" Her words were punctuated by sobs.

Kavar did not move from his spot on the bed. He looked cold and unresponsive, a far cry from what he had been but moments earlier when her lips embraced his.

"He had blue eyes…tell me who he was!"

Kavar stood now, and faced her. "Forget your past. You are not who you once were."

His eyes flashed a bit in the dim light, and they reminded her of her heartbreaking vision. And the kiss was still fresh in her mind. Kavar's manner bordered on cold with her in normal circumstances, but when she'd kissed him, at least she felt desired, like she mattered to someone.

Her crying quieted momentarily as she contemplated finding more comfort in Kavar's touch. He would respond, if only because he felt that was what she needed; she was sure of it. Carina put her arms around his neck and stared into his face.

"Tell me, am I a bad person? Am I worthy of being loved?"

Her questions evoked a wash of sympathy for the young woman. Kavar knew her fall to the dark side had been fueled by secrets kept by the Jedi, and though he did not excuse the deeds of her past life, he could recognize she was changed forever after she brought down the Trayus Academy.

"You are not a bad person. And you are worthy of being loved," Kavar said. His words were not appropriate for a master to say to his padawan, but this was a special situation, and Kavar knew she needed to hear those words.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Carina's soft lips were on his again. This time, he took control of the kiss. He was much more experienced than her, and he knew that all she really needed at this point was to feel loved. His lips moved over hers in a measured yet sensual manner, letting them both fully enjoy the velvety fullness of one another's mouth. As they kissed, Carina expected the vast emptiness that ached in her heart to lessen or at least become more bearable, but instead, the hollow feeling grew until it became almost unbearable.

Kavar pulled away just as Carina became too overwhelmed. He knew that he could not be with her… it would simply not be right. There were way too many things complicating the manner, and she did deserve to be loved, but he could not be the one to love her.

Once he pulled away, Carina began to cry. She knew she had lost something very important to her, but she could not even remember what it was. It was so unfair. She was not even gifted distraction from her heartache.

Kavar put his arms around her in an encompassing hug. Carina melted against him, feeling the strength leave her limbs just as the will to live on like this began to falter. He picked her up and brought her back to her bed and held her there as she cried.

---------------------

It was very late at night, and Trentyn and Atton walked purposefully ahead of Admiral Onasi, who held tightly on to Rani. She was doing much better and felt normal even, but Carth would hear none of it. She had really scared him when she'd passed out.

Evy was still at the medical facility, and it was looking unlikely that she would make it home for the night. She was forced to work a double shift again, and most of her time was spent monitoring her new mysterious patient who had not awoken as of yet. The efficient nurse had also taken time out to instruct Rani to take a few days off. Evy doubted her friend would fully heed her advice, so she took the liberty of calling Ce-Ira-Mundi, Rani's campaign manager, and letting him know that as her healthcare provider, she would not allow Rani to work for the time being. Needless to say, with everything that had happened recently, the Cerean was not happy to hear Evy's instructions, but he promised to listen to her anyway, agreeing that the most important thing was for Rani to recover fully.

When Tren reached the door, he began to unlock and open it before he realized he had never told Carth Dustil was back and staying at the apartment.

"What's the matter, man?" Atton asked, anxious to get inside and sleep. "Does your hand still hurt? You want me to open it?"

Tren looked down at his bandaged hand, the one Evy had tended to. "No… Dude, I haven't told Carth about Dustil yet."

"What?! Why the hell not?" Atton asked, looking annoyed.

"I just…I didn't have time…and then I kinda…well, I kinda forgot until now."

"How did you forget something like that? Didn't you used to train Dustil in lightsaber skills on Korriban at the Sith Academy?"

"Yes! Dude, the painkillers are getting to my head, I think."

Atton rolled his eyes, and Carth and Rani soon caught up to them.

"What's wrong?" Carth asked.

"I…uh…nothing, I just…" Tren started saying, unable to come up with a good excuse. The drugs really were muddling his mind.

"Your sister's exhausted; can we get her inside, please?" Carth said, slightly irritated.

Trentyn didn't know what else to do, and he couldn't find the words at the moment to explain to Carth. He looked to Atton, who merely grinned at him, slightly enjoying the discomfort of his usually suave friend. At a loss of words, Tren opened the door.

When it swished open, Trentyn glanced nervously around the common room and found no sign of Dustil. Then he realized the man must be in Tren's room, which Tren had said he could sleep in.

"Goodnight, Tren; goodnight, Atton. Thanks for helping me out," Rani said tiredly.

Trentyn kissed his sister's cheek, truly grateful that she seemed okay other than being really tired, and Atton reached out and squeezed her hand. Tren watched Carth lead Rani to their bedroom, and when the bedroom door closed behind them, he sprung into action. He ran into the room that he had been staying in, and sure enough, found Dustil lounging on the bed.

"Dude, just stay here, okay? Your father and Rani are back, but I'm going to try and go get him," Tren instructed hurriedly. He didn't want Carth to have any more reason than he already did to dislike him.

Tren ran out and found Atton entering his own room that he shared with Evy…at least when she was home.

"I'm not going to let you sleep in there with me," Atton said. "There's only one bed."

"When I do go to sleep, I'm taking Indy's room, since she and Han are staying at Mical's now. Seriously, man, do you think it would be okay if I knocked on the door so I can talk to the admiral?"

"I don't know if you want to do that. I mean, he might be in a bad mood if you interrupt him and Rani." Atton said, grinning devilishly.

"Aw…man…come on, I don't want to think of my sister and Carth doing that…"

"I'm just saying, people usually get horny after something like that happens," Atton continued.

"Dude, as far as I'm concerned, the only thing they do in that room is sleep. I don't need to know that they do anything else."

Atton chuckled. "Force, I'm glad I don't have a sister. It's so much easier to be able to look at all women as sex objects. Goodnight, buddy."

When the door closed, Trentyn took a few moments to compose himself. He would have to knock on that door, whether he liked it or not. Carth needed to know his son was there in his apartment and ready now to at least be in contact with him.

Just as Tren made it to the door and had his hand raised to knock, the door swished open, startling him. Carth stood on the other side of the doorway. He had changed into pajama pants and a thin undershirt.

"Can I help you, Tren?" the admiral asked. His eyebrows rose with the question.

"Uh…how's my sister?" Tren asked. His previous planned words about Dustil fled when he was surprised by the door opening.

"Carth walked into the room toward the kitchen area. "She's all right; just a bit tired. I'm getting her a glass of water right now, though she might already be sleeping by the time I get back."

"Yeah…uh…there's something I forgot to tell you that you need to know."

"What's that?" Carth asked while pouring the water.

"Well, we have a guest."

"A guest?" Carth said. Intent on bringing Rani the water, he walked back toward the bedroom. Tren glanced over to the room Dustil was staying in and saw the young man standing in the doorway. Tren panicked.

"Look, could you just…just listen?!" Tren demanded, raising his voice.

The admiral swiveled around to see why Trentyn was acting so weird, but when he did, he spotted his son.

"Dustil…" The name escaped Carth's mouth as he struggled to hold on to the suddenly slippery glass of water.

"Surprise!" Tren shouted, throwing his hands ridiculously into the air.


	10. Enter Jene Cyrus

Eklipse waited for Luthan to come to the training room; it was the first place he went after he woke up. Sure enough, after about an hour of waiting, Luthan entered the room.

"Luthan."

"Yes, Master Eklipse?"

"You will no longer address me as master. I hereby promote you to the rank of master."

"You can make me a master? Just like that?"

It was rare for someone so young to become a master.

"I feel there is nothing left I can teach you, but there is much you can teach the students here."

"What are you planning? You are acting rather strange."

Shortly after saying that, he decided he shouldn't argue over a good thing. _It would be like refusing a gift._ _It's just not done. And since I never get gifts, I might as well, _he thought. He wasn't completely awake, and his good judgment was coming back to him.

"How dare you accuse your master of—"

"I am no longer your apprentice? Thus, I no longer answer to you."

"You will still respect me," Eklipse said, extending a finger in his direction.

Luthan inclined his head to acknowledge acquiescence. "Yes, master. But I still need one of my own. An apprentice, that is."

"Actually, I already had someone in mind."

"Who might that be?"

"The Shadow."

"The what? And why?"

"The Shadow, and I don't want her anymore."

"Hey!" shouted a voice from the darkness.

"Her?" Luthan asked, baffled.

"Damn it, Syrena!" Eklipse shouted. "That's why I don't want you as my apprentice anymore."

"I'll take her," Luthan interrupted. She was not only beautiful, but also powerful. He could sense her connection to the Force.

"What am I—property? Who do you think you are, trading me around like chattel? My power is as great as yours, if not greater!"

"That is a wild boast, young one. But you will soon learn your place." Eklipse sneered, enjoying the irritated look upon the woman's face. "You are now apprenticed to Master Luthan."

Luthan left the room, still disoriented from lack of sleep. Syrena followed the strange-looking man reluctantly. Luthan was a slender young man with a pale complexion and long straight white hair. Syrena was quite the opposite. She was rather flushed-looking, with curly black hair. They seemed complete opposites, even in behavior. Yet Luthan's attraction to Syrena was returned.

"You are a strange man—do you know that?" Syrena said.

"Yes," replied Luthan, completely seriously.

Syrena was done; she just didn't know how to respond to that.

"Why are you called the Shadow?"

"I lurk…"

The conversation became awkward.

"I see. Well, come see me tomorrow I'll teach you something…"

"Yes, master. Excuse me."

Syrena escaped the conversation swiftly, but not smoothly.

Eklipse watched the scene from his vantage point in the training room, grinning to himself. For once, he had nothing up his sleeve. He truly believed that Luthan deserved his rank. As for Syrena, he thought it would be funny to watch Luthan train a beautiful woman that was just a bit younger than he was, and to try and test the limits of his self-control.

--------------------

Mithic spotted an empty table in the corner of the _Orbiting Star_. He and Friz sat together and were shortly joined by the armored man and the one-eyed woman. Mithic was only thinking one thing: _bounty hunters_. He wasn't afraid of either of them, but having a bounty on your head wasn't exactly something you celebrated unless you got it there intentionally. Mithic was more worried about his reputation then his life. Republic officers should not be wanted criminals.

"So how's life been treatin' you?" Caine asked. She was completely aware that Mithic had figured out who they were. 

"I don't want to kill you. Can we negotiate something?" asked Mithic, in an attempt to make them leave.

"I don't think you really understand what we do, Captain. You know what we're up to and we know you're not the least bit scared. Maybe you should be. You see, unless you can top the price we're getting from killing you—"

"Plus extra because we don't get to kill you!" said Cody, who felt left out of the conversation.

"Yeah, plus extra since we don't get to kill you," Caine agreed.

"And how much is that?" Mithic questioned. He was actually considering paying them off.

"You need to top fifteen hundred credits," Caine said.

"Plus an extra five hundred, Caine—remember?"

"All right, top two thousand and you've got a deal. Throw in that blaster I've seen you use and we'll lower it to just two hundred measly credits."

"There's no way in the galaxy you're getting my Thunderer, so don't even ask. I'll see about those two thousand credits. Tomorrow—same time, same place—I'll give you my decision," Mithic said, wanting to end this conversation.

"This is Citadel Station, Captain. You could get on your ship and high-tail it to Tatooine by tomorrow. We settle this now. And you don't leave my sight until then. Got it?" Caine's voice was surprisingly intimidating.

"All right, just give me some time," Mithic said.

Mithic walked around Citadel Station, running errands and thinking hard. _Do I want to kill them? I can spare two thousand credits, but if I kill them they won't stop coming_. _If the reason there's a bounty on my head is serious, there's nothing I can do. I hate this!_

Eventually Mithic decided to give them the money. He returned to the cantina to negotiate. Caine seemed pleased when he announced his decision to offer up the credits, but put out by the fact that he didn't sweeten the deal with his blaster.

"All right, Captain, Cody will escort you to get your credits. You two will meet me at Bay 37 as soon as possible. Go."

In about three minutes, Caine was at Bay 37. About twelve minutes later, Cody and Mithic caught up.

"Here's your money. Now leave me alone."

Mithic flipped the credit chip to Caine.

"Excellent, but you know how we could get even more money?"

Caine drew her blaster, and Cody did the same.

"I should've known…"

Mithic drew his Thunderer and something Caine and Cody didn't expect—a lightsaber. The bounty hunters fired their weapons, and Mithic deflected them, all except one. It was hard to deflect bolts from a repeating blaster. Mithic was hit in the left forearm, and he dropped his Thunderer. He was hit again in the side. He then did a few flips and Force jumps, confusing his enemy's shots, but still not avoiding all of them. Caine and Cody were very good shots, and they shot Mithic again in the chest. He fell down behind Caine and took her trigger hand off. After howling, she drew a blaster with her other hand and shot him in the shoulder. Luckily it was his blaster-wielding shoulder.

Cody charged toward Mithic and tried to hit him with his repeater, but Mithic sliced it in half while simultaneously Force pushing the two bounty hunters away. Mithic picked up his Thunderer, Caine's rifle, and Caine's pistol. He left the two bounty hunters unconscious and went to get help for his many blaster wounds.

Shortly after, Cody woke up; they had both been forcefully slammed against the wall. Cody ran to Caine.

"This will be the second time I've carried you away from a battle, Caine," he said, chuckling to himself. "Don't worry; we'll catch the bastard after we get you a new hand."

Then he thought of something: Caine still had Mithic's credits. He made sure. _What a fool, _he thought._ I can't believe he wouldn't take them back._

_  
_"But hey, this can be the get Caine a new hand fund," he said out loud, laughing.

--------------

For Mical, it had been a very long day. Rani and Han passed through his office door, both requiring serious attention. Not that he was complaining, of course. He liked the work; it kept him busy.

_Thank the Force for that_, he said to himself. Anything to keep his mind off…her.

He wondered if the pain would ever pass. It had been so long already, he didn't know what he was still holding on for. He needed to let her go and move on with his life.

He took a breath, deciding inwardly that he would make a conscious effort to move on. He had been miserable for so long. He owed it to himself—and to her—to pull himself together and go forward, eat right, get enough sleep…

Thoughts of her tugged at his mind despite his best efforts, and he quickly decided to step out into the hallway of the station for some fresh air.

He closed his eyes and saw her beautiful face.

"Carina," he whispered to her image.

_Mical_, the woman in his mind replied.

His heart was heavy, and he felt like crying. Yet he knew what he had to do.

"Goodbye."

He would bury her memory deep within himself and somehow press on, if only for her. She would have wanted it that way, he was certain.

A moment passed, and he took a deep breath, gathering his courage for the long road to recovery ahead of him. And as he opened his eyes…

"Seems a little quick for goodbyes, Doc," Cody said, his arms crossed over his chest in a menacing fashion, though without a weapon. "Especially since we haven't even said hello."

It was odd for him to be helmetless, but he felt it was a necessity. He had left his helmet with Caine by her unconscious side, so if she woke up without him, she knew he would return. If she ever were to doubt his return—which, of course, was doubtful.

Cody shook his head, confused by his own thoughts. This whole thing had him in a runaround. Caine was getting hurt too often for his liking. If only she wasn't so reckless, if only she had a shred of concern for her own wellbeing…

He also missed his blaster. He was practically a mess without his trusty DC-15A blaster rifle in hand. He hated being out unarmed, like a walking target, without a helmet, and without Caine…

He was growing more frustrated by the second, and he decided he'd better get what he came for before he drove himself insane.

"Who are you?" Mical asked, slightly intimidated by the bulky Mandalorian. "What do you want?"

_Thank the Force for that_, Cody said to himself, happy he had not lost his powerful presence along with his weapon.

Man, he missed that rifle…

"I have a friend in need of assistance," Cody said strongly, sounding more authoritative than he felt. Usually Caine did the talking.

_Caine… She is going to be furious when she wakes up without a blaster._

Mical appeared more confused than anything at this point. Cody was intimidating, but the man seemed very…distracted. "Well," he began slowly, carefully, not forgetting how dangerous this man could be if he decided to be. "Where are they?"

"Who?" Cody replied without thinking.

"Your…friend?" Mical said even more cautiously.

Cody fought the urge to smack himself in the forehead. He really was a mess without Caine, his rifle, and his helmet.

Just then, he thought of Caine, unconscious, in pain, and in desperate need of a doctor. His determination skyrocketed in an instant. Cody grabbed Mical's arm forcefully and began to pull him along.

"Excuse me?" Mical said in reply to his action. "I cannot leave the hospital. Why do you not just bring them here?"

"No," was Cody's reply, as he continued to drag the blonde doctor at his side.

Now Mical was conflicted. He could have fought the thug and possibly hurt himself and been of help to no one, or he could have gone with this man and helped this friend.

"I have other patients," Mical began.

But nothing could break Cody's determination. "Come with me now and I will let you live to return to them later," Cody said.

Mical paused. "Very well," he said at last. "But I would prefer to walk without your assistance."

Cody gave him a once over, grunted, and released the doctor. "This way," he said, and led him to another commandeered apartment room, to Caine.

_This makes three that have slipped our grasp_, Cody thought to himself, knowing he would keep his promise to the doctor and let him live. The list was practically unachievable, it seemed.

_Caine is going to kill me when she wakes up._

-------------------

_This better not be a joke._

In truth, he wasn't sure if he would be any angrier if it did turn out to be a joke. What a waste this stupid excuse for an assignment was. How could they be so short-sighted? The Sith were still out there, he knew it, but instead of using him to find the bastards, they were sending him to some place called Citadel Station above Telos, to make sure that the restoration efforts ran smoothly. Jene Cyrus, for one, thought the whole thing was a waste of time: restoring a planet wouldn't bring it back to normal or anything close to it. Nothing could repair the damage that the Mandalorians and the Sith had done; he knew that better than almost anyone. Why waste time, money, and resources on such a vain attempt to restore normalcy? As usual, he blamed corrupt senators and an idiotic political system. However, he did not openly question his assignment.

What exactly needed doing the senators never told him. They only told him that he was to report to either one of two Republic officers: Admiral Carth Onasi or Captain John Mithic. He had probably heard of both of them at one point or another, but if he had, those memories were pushed out of his mind by new plans for weapons or modifications to other ones, and the haunting memories of his past that always ensured him a sleepless night every night. He had adjusted to his constant sleep deprivation well, and instead of appearing tired all the time he simply began needing less sleep. He currently operated on about three hours of sleep a night, and he still piloted the _Black Sun_ like an ace. His mental stability seemed to suffer, however, and he was (if such a thing is possible) more prone to violence than almost any other mercenary. When he wasn't in a fit of rage, he seemed to be completely cold, like a droid more than a man. If it weren't for the fact that he never wore a helmet, people might mistake him for a machine.

Finally, he approached Telos and dropped out of hyperspace. He could feel the _Black Sun_ ease back into normal space with a lurch as the hyperdrive boosters shut off, and then he saw what they called Citadel Station. It was like a great black cloud over the ruined planet, albeit one that shone with a million tiny lights from the surface. The airspace was unguarded, at least by ships, and he passed over the surface, scanning for the docking bay, his four ion engines carrying the ship much faster than one would expect such a bulky fighter to go. He saw the distinctive flashing red lights of the spaceport and took his ship in for a landing.

The Citadel Station spaceport was massive, but by no means the largest Jene had ever been in. Yet no matter how big it was or how many ships traveled in and out of it every day, the _Black Sun_ never failed at drawing curious looks. For one thing, the base model was rare indeed, as the TIE Oppressor was still a prototype. Most had never seen such an odd spacecraft, even before the numerous modifications made to it. It bristled with weaponry, having a total of eight laser cannons on it, as well as twice as many engines as it had been designed for. The twin-TIE configuration had not been in the original concept for it, so the second one was a bit crudely placed on top of the first. There were also two additional boosters behind the main wings that allowed it to enter hyperspace. The entire ship had been painted black, and additional hull plating had been added to offset the strains of hyperspace travel.

Finally, there was the matter of what Jene called either his "little friend" (informally) or his "Anti-Matter Obliterator gun" (when explaining the odd weapon to authorities). Even retracted, the massive weapon was plainly visible from the front, and it was customized, prototyped, and highly unstable. The Obliterator superficially resembled a proton torpedo tube welded to the end of three laser cannons, which were themselves welded to each other in a triangular pattern. Most of it, however, was obscured by a mass of wires, tubes, gauges, and more wires. On the inside, however, it was in many ways a wondrous device, and possibly the most powerful weapon ever mounted on a starfighter. Luckily for most, the Obliterator was a unique weapon, custom-made by Jene, and so far only he knew the technique to make anti-matter weapons. It was knowledge so secret and so dangerous that he had never told anyone else of its manufacture, nor had he ever made a final blueprint for the weapon. It was simply too powerful for him to allow it to fall into the wrong hands.

Of course, he was greeted by security personnel almost as soon as he left the ship, not just because he was using a starfighter but because he was dressed for war. He had a DL-44 hanging from his belt, a heavily modified DLT-20A—though just how heavily modified was not apparent upon first glance—slung over his shoulder with a strap, and an even stranger weapon that they could not recognize—the Anti-Matter Annihilator rifle, the scaled-down, handheld version of the Obliterator—on his back. In addition, he had a second DL-44 on his left thigh, and a sheathed sword on his right hip. They assumed it to be a vibroblade, but it was much deadlier than that. Add all this to the black combat suit he wore, and they all assumed him to be a mercenary or assassin. They were not as far from the truth as he would like them to be, but far enough from it that he wouldn't be arrested. Well, assuming he could keep his temper from flaring up.

"What's this we have here, a merc?"

The officer's tone was condescending, almost mocking, but Jene stayed calm. His mismatched eyes moved from one officer to another, and when he refocused on who he took to be the leader, he looked into the man's brown eyes with a stare so piercing that it was as if he was trying to impale the man with his irises.

"My name is Jene Cyrus, or _Specialist_ Jene Cyrus to you. The Republic sent me here to help ensure that the Restoration Project was not disturbed. " He glared at an officer who was already clacking away on a computer terminal. " My records will _not_appear in your databases, as I am not a member of the Republic Army. However, I do believe you will find a message from the Senate arriving right about...now. " A tiny dinging sound could be heard from the terminal. "I think they will make it clear to you that you are not to impede my progress any further."

The captain turned away with a slight look of annoyance on his face, which only intensified as he read the message on the terminal. "All right," he said gruffly. "You're cleared. Dock your ship and carry on."

"Thank you, Captain. Do you have any idea where I may find Admiral Onasi or Captain Mithic?"

"I'm afraid I do not."

With that, Jene left the spaceport, his weapons lightly clanking against his armor as he walked. He would need to find either of the Republic officers, but the moronic Senate had apparently forgotten to tell him where he would find them.

He eventually came upon the apartment complex at which he would be staying, and he used the key he had with him to open the door to his room. It was Spartan, with just three rooms: the main room, which had a plain, beige-colored couch and a small kitchen; a bedroom with a double bed; and a bathroom. He didn't mind the conditions, which were comparable to his quarters on Coruscant or any other world on which he found himself. What he did find waiting for him in the main room was all he needed: a workbench with basic power tools, a small crate of spare parts, a DH-17 blaster pistol, and two DLT-20A long blasters, all available for his use. He put his sun rifle and Annihilator down on the workbench and left the room again, locking it behind him. Perhaps he would walk around the apartment complex a bit, at least to work out the stiffness in his legs from spending so much time in that cramped cockpit.

---------------------

Mithic limped away from the battle. He could barely walk after having the wind knocked out of him. His breathing was far from normal. People stared at him as he limped past. Suddenly his body couldn't take any more. He passed out. A small crowd of mixed pedestrians, Czerka, and Ithorians watched him fall. Most of them recognized him from holovision. A man ran over to him, issuing commands to a few others surrounding him.

"Well come on! We have to get him to a doctor!"

A few onlookers helped him pick Mithic up and head to the medical facility.

---------------------

"Oh my," Mical said as he saw Caine's missing hand. "She's alive, only unconscious. I'm afraid I can't do anything about her hand. We don't deal in prosthetic or robotic limbs."

"I know she's alive, numb-nuts!" Cody wasn't surprised; this was why he hated doctors. "You have to be able to do something! At least tell me where we can go when she wakes up!"

"Well, I used to know a doctor who specialized in robotic limbs. His was Alderaanian. I think he lives in Aldera now, the capital city of Alderaan. You might find someone closer, but tell him I sent you and he might give you a discount." Mical tried his best not to upset the man.

"Good enough. I think she's waking up. Get back to your patients."

Mical gratefully did as he was told.

"We're goin' to Alderaan, Jana," Cody said, tuned his radio to Lorso's. "Permission to leave the station?"

"What about Mithic?" the woman's irritable voice said over the commlink.

"Hah, I see him being rushed into the hospital right this moment."

"Then sure. You can finish him when you get back. Don't give him too long to recover!"

"I want a fair fight. This time he won't be so lucky," Caine said, waking from her unconsciousness.

"Caine! Caine, you're awake!" Cody cried.

"What? What in the galaxy? Where are my guns! What happened?" She noticed her guns but not her hand. "Bantha crap!"

But then she did notice the missing limb, and her face hardened instantly.

"Don't worry, we're going to Alderaan. I'll fill you in on the way."

Cody helped Caine up and they walked to the hangar, where took they took the modified I-7 Howlrunner Jana had provided for their use out into space.

"So what you're saying is we put the captain in the hospital, but he took our guns and cut my hand off? How in the galaxy did that happen? That bastard!" Caine was taking it pretty well, considering she had just lost a limb. "How did you let this happen?"

"Hey, at least he didn't slice your gun in two! You can still get yours back! Speaking of which, there are guns on this ship, right? Because I don't have any on me."

"We've got two A280's, a KX-80 Repeater, ummm…a few DL44's. Oh, snap! I call it! Wait…damn, I only have one hand, that stupid bastard…"

"What?! What is it?" Cody couldn't leave the cockpit, so he called over his shoulder instead.

"It's just a blaster cannon…" Caine was very frustrated.

"A what?"

"A Merr-Sonn Z-6 Rotary blaster cannon! Where did you learn your weapons?"

"Know-it-all. Hey, wait! That means I get to use it! Hah!"

"Cody, I may have one hand, but I swear I will wring your neck if you don't stop there."

"Sure."

---------------------

"I'm leaving today," Syrena spoke to Luthan as she walked to the hangar. "I'll be back shortly. I made a promise I intend to keep." 

"Are you sure you don't want me to come?" Luthan said hopefully. The tension between them had been growing ever since they had begun training together, and at some point it had to boil over.

"Yeah, definitely stay here."

"All right."

She entered the hangar and boarded her V-Wing. She had bought it from a man on Dantooine. It didn't take long for her to reach Citadel Station. When she did, she found Jana where she always did. She was alone, aware that any day now she would see the Shadow again. But when Jana looked up at her as she entered, she could deduce from the frightened look in her eyes that she hadn't expected it to come so soon.

"Oh, no. Please, don't! I'll give you anything you want!" Jana made a final attempt at persuading the hooded figure to spare her.

"You have nothing of use to me." Syrena took off her robes, revealing a black and blue combat suit and a lightsaber attached to her waist. She drew her saber. "Let's make this quick," she said as she swung her lightsaber threateningly. 

_She's so young!_ Jana thought. She couldn't believe she was destined to die at the hands of a teenage girl.

The lightsaber blade cut her head clean off. Syrena tucked her lightsaber into her robes and picked them up. Then she left without a trace.

---------------------

"Another one? I get to treat him here, right?"

The man nodded at Mical.

"Good. Put him on the bed over there." Mical pointed to the end of the room.

In a few minutes, Mical came over to take a look at him.

"Four blaster wounds. He's lucky to be alive. Nurse, get him out of these clothes."

The nurse returned with Mithic in a wheelchair, wearing a pair of white pants and no shirt.

"These were his." The nurse handed Mical a bag with two pistols, a rifle, and a lightsaber.

"What is this officer doing with a lightsaber? He can't be a Jedi, can he?"

The question was more rhetorical than anything, so the nurse predictably did not answer him.

"Anyway, we need to treat him. Try to wake him up. Don't tell anyone we've got John Mithic here; I have a feeling most of them already know anyway..."

-----------------------

Caine envisioned the peaceful world of Alderaan in her mind, with its wild grasslands, majestic mountain ranges, several beautiful lakes, and massive polar seas. It was like a vision, a dream…

She hated it.

She'd been there before; she'd been nearly everywhere before, probably with Cody. She hadn't been very traveled before she met him, but since the incident, they have been all over the galaxy and back again.

After having traveled all over, Caine hated Alderaan excessively. It was just too calm, too quiet. It gave her too much time to wait around without purpose, and situations like that only led to ridiculous things like thinking too much. And Caine hated it when she was left thinking too much.

"I'm setting a course for Aldera, the capital of Alderaan," Cody said to her, not noticing her unpleased expression or simply choosing to ignore it. "It will take a little while to get there, unfortunately. Lorso apparently chose to screw us over with this bucket of bolts!"

"That's always a distinct possibility," Caine added, noting Cody's unusual bout of frustration. She paused, giving him a moment to cool off and perhaps explain things, hopefully without her asking.

He sighed but said nothing, and Caine was left conflicted. She looked away, down toward the stump at the end of her arm. The wound had been clean and it had also been cauterized by the lightsaber, but that did not keep it from hurting. And by the Force, did it ever hurt. Of course, she wouldn't admit that to Cody…

"It pains you severely, doesn't it?" Cody said, his tone making it seem like more of a statement than a question.

She glanced up at him into his face, which was creased with worry despite his obvious attempt to hide it, and she knew the source of his anger was because of what had happened to her.

"Only when I stop to think about it," Caine told him, lying only a little. Well, perhaps more than a little.

She knew he saw through the lie; he always did. He just chose to ignore it.

"When we get back to Telos, I'm going to kill Lorso. I swear it," he said heatedly, and Caine knew better than to doubt his words. "This entire assignment has been a sham. Why would Czerka care about the heroes of the Republic? It doesn't make any sense!" He took a breath quickly, reeling in his aggravation. "We're just pawns, and that was fine before. But not now."

"Commander," Caine said calmly, trying to ease his troubled mind.

"You got hurt, Caine, and that changes things," he said. "I won't be their pawn any longer."

"What about the money?" Caine asked slowly, far too tired to argue.

"It's not worth it," Cody said flatly. "We can find better work."

Caine paused. Cody was certainly acting strangely, but then, Caine had never been so badly wounded before. At least not in a while anyway. And when she was…

_"I promise I'll protect you wherever your life takes you, Mona. Just, please, pull through this. I'll do anything, just pull through!"_

Caine reddened slightly at the memory, but hid it under her long black hair with a tilt of her head. She had not forgotten what had transpired all those years ago, despite what Cody assumed. She just thought it would be better for them both if he thought she did. Because things couldn't go back to the way they were. No matter what.

Caine stood and headed out of the cockpit.

"Caine? Where are you going?"

"What, are you writing my biography?! I'm going to the refresher!" she snapped, desperate for him not to notice the blush that still lingered on her cheeks.

"Are you sure there even is one in this thing?" Cody added, watching her leave the small space. He did not notice anything wrong until she made the corner out of sight. Her eye, her good eye…

Was she…crying?

"No, no," Cody told himself. "She never cries."

Still…

Cody flicked on the autopilot and went to investigate.

------------------

Mical decided to step out for more fresh air into the hallway of Citadel Station. He truly was working himself to death, of that he was certain, and with mysterious occurrences, it was not just his normal workload. He wondered what was to become of him.

At the very least, he was thankful that his mind was finally finding some peace. He still thought of his lost love far more than he wished he did, but he was slowly accepting her death.

He believed that firmly until he saw her walking right by him. He turned quickly, but by then could only see her back as she walked away from him.

Was it her? Could it have been?

"No," he told his rapidly beating heart, believing himself simply to have been having a delusion of some sort, to have been envisioning her.

Yet something somewhere deep inside him was tugging at his heart, desperately nudging him toward her. He did not act on this impulse, no. The madness had to stop, and the only way to do that was to surrender to the fact that she was gone. And move on.

He shook his head, removed the very thought from his mind, and went back to work.

--------------------

Just as Cody had mentioned, there was indeed no fresher. In fact, she was lucky there was even a small storage space for her to lose herself in, and she had to crouch to get to it. Indeed, she had been forced to shed a few tears, and she hoped more than anything that Cody had not noticed. Her wrist hurt more than anything, with a throbbing, nerve-breaking pain that rattled her. Her previous adrenaline was wearing away with the realization of such a long wait ahead of her before she would finally be awarded relief.

It was simply unbearable!

Cody had snuck in beside her when she was not looking. Her other senses were facing neglect, as every possible facet of her being was focusing on the agony in her wrist.

"Caine," Cody whispered softly, trying to soothe her.

"Go away, Cody!" Caine yelled, not wanting him to see her like this. She was breaking down, and she wanted to do it alone.

But he had other plans.

Cody grabbed her shoulders and turned her to him with urgency in his actions. He still exercised complete caution, aware of where her wounded arm was at all times. And in the moment, he was so close to her in that tiny space, his face just an inch from hers, that Caine could think of little else but him.

"If it only pains you when you stop to think of it," he said to her, his voice raspy in fear and longing, his eyes desperate to bring her comfort, "then I won't let you think of it."

In a fire of emotion on both ends, their lips met in a passion interlock as Cody closed the gap between them. He held her tightly as his tongue explored her mouth, as his nose took in her scent, as his hands felt her shirt and her skin beneath them.

He was relocating every thought in her mind, every sense in her power, every twinge of every nerve, all to him. And she could do nothing, wanted nothing but to get lost in him.

It had been far too long.

Still, she knew things couldn't go back to the way they were. At least, that's what her mind was screaming at her as she melted into his kiss.

They couldn't go back because she was different now.

He didn't want to believe it, and he wouldn't accept it, but she knew better. She knew herself, and she knew that the value of her life was practically non-existent in everyone's eyes. Well, everyone except Cody, which was exactly the problem! He'd never let her go like that, so carelessly, like how she wanted to. She needed to stay away from him, so when the time came, he would let her go.

His kiss deepened, and before long, she realized they were on the floor.

His lips broke from hers at last, though hesitantly so, and just as she started to think she would regain her senses, his kisses fell to the nape of her neck. And she dove in with him all over again.

"I will protect you, Mona," he had told her years ago. "I promise."

"Cody," she breathed, even her mind beginning to submit to his persuasion. 

Things could never go back to the way they were. They could never fall in love again.

Caine wondered if perhaps it was too late.

"Cody," she said again, loving his touch on her skin, forgetting everything but him, wanting more, all that he had to give…

Maybe it was always too late.

-----------------

Admiral Carth Onasi stared at his son in disbelief. Dustil was in his father's apartment, and he had come of his own accord. 

"Dustil…you are here?" Carth knew it sounded stupid, but all coherent thought had fled from him the moment he saw his estranged son.

Dustil stared back at his father, his dark brown eyes appearing black in the dim light. Carth noticed that much of the coldness he used to see in his son's eyes was gone, at least for the moment.

Trentyn, realizing that his presence was not being noticed at all, left the father and son in the common room of the apartment and settled down in his bed for the night. Hopefully his cut hand would stop throbbing in the morning.

"I came with Trentyn," Dustil explained, his expression hard to read.

Carth felt a bit more warmth for Rani's brother. He would have thought Tren would be one of the last people who would be able to talk Dustil into staying with his father. But the more the admiral thought about it, the more it made sense. Trentyn had trained Dustil in lightsaber fighting at the Sith Academy before Dustil was promoted by Darth Destrik.

"Where were you…where were you staying?" Carth asked, truly concerned about his son for a moment before he realized that Dustil was quite the adult now.

"I was…" Dustil faltered until he remember that Tren had told him Carth knew everything about Atton and Tren's organization, the organization that helped ex-Sith soldiers like himself. "I was sleeping in what I thought was an abandoned storage house. Turned out Atton and Tren just started leasing it for their new headquarters."

Carth was at a loss for words. He didn't want to say something meaningless again, but he didn't want to say anything to upset his son either. He felt like he was inching out on a pool covered by a layer of thin ice. If he said the wrong thing, both of them would go plunging into the cold, dark, watery depths, and it would take a long time for each of them to warm up again.

"I am glad to have you here, son," Carth said finally after setting the glass of water he'd poured for Rani to the side.

"I don't mean to stay for long," Dustil said. He wanted to reconcile with his father, he really did. He wanted to be able to forgive him for everything that had happened since Telos, and he wanted to be forgiven for all he'd done while he followed Destrik as his master. But there was too much between them. Too many memories and lingering emotions… It would take time to be a companionable father and son again.

"Oh?" Carth said, biting back his disappointment.

"Once Trentyn and Atton set up their headquarters, I think I would like to help them with the organization," Dustil said. The thought of what he would do next hadn't entered his mind. He told his father this just to explain why he did not want to stay in the apartment for long.

"You are welcome here for as long as you would like to stay, Dustil. You are safe here." Carth didn't know why he added the last sentence. It was almost like he knew that his son needed to hear that.

And Dustil did need to hear that. It had been far too long since he had felt truly safe. As a member of the Sith, he was always wary of the ambition of others, and he was often surrounded by death. It didn't get too much better after the Battle of Dantooine. He had spent the last four months laying low and traveling a lot. He had been the only high-ranking Sith at the battle who had survived it, and if anyone realized that he had survived, he would doubtless have to pay for his sins.

"Thank you, Father."

The two fell into silence once again, both sensing that slowly they would be able to weave their relationship back together.

Taking a chance, Carth traversed the few feet that lay between them and hugged his son. It felt strange to hug him now that he was taller than Carth, but regardless of all that had happened, Carth's heart was bursting with joy and pride. It was quick, but meaningful contact. At least now Dustil was willing to give his father a chance.

"You should probably go give that water to Rani now," Dustil said, trying to break the slight awkwardness of the moment.

"She's probably already sleeping…"

"I'm sorry. I heard what happened to her, and I'm sorry…"

"It's not your fault, son."

"She deserves better than to be treated like that."

Dustil's last words surprised Carth. The vehemence with which he said them indicated to Carth that Dustil cared for Rani more than he had expected.

Carth nodded solemnly in response.

"I'll be going to bed now… I'll still be here in the morning," Dustil told his father reassuringly before walking into the room that Indy used to occupy and closing the door.

Admiral Onasi stood in the common room for a long time, staring out the floor-to-ceiling window that covered almost one entire wall. The artificial lights of the city blurred together in a splendid night view that Carth didn't seem to notice, as his thoughts still lingered on his son. For a few moments, he even let himself think of his dead wife. Sometimes he tried to picture her face, but he was frustrated when he couldn't. He did remember snippets about her…her long black hair, her creamy pale skin, her gentle voice.

Yes, he was with Rani now, and he loved her and was more devoted to her than he'd perhaps ever been to anything or anyone. But it hadn't been that long since Morgana's death. He wished to keep her memory alive for Dustil and for himself.

Finally, Carth pulled himself out of his ruminations and picked the glass of water from the chrome side table where he had set it. It was surprisingly still cool, but it didn't matter anyway because he found Rani fast asleep in their bedroom. He placed the glass by her nightstand, kissing her forehead lightly before he stripped down to his underclothes and joined her in sleep.

---------------------------

Golden sunlight poured through the window and bathed Rani's face. It woke her up, and she squinted in the light, trying to gather her bearings. The whole night had been a whirl of fragmented dreams, some dark and terrifying, and others peaceful and joyful. The dream she had just woken up from was still fresh in her memory.

She dreamt she was on Telos, and it had been fully restored to its prior beauty. Rani had been walking the surface, marveling at the nature, and excitedly planning how the new cities would be built. Then it had started to rain, and she had begun to run, trying to find shelter from the weather. She ran around frantically, the rain growing colder and stronger, stinging her cheeks as the fat drops fell down on her. But then she found herself in a familiar embrace. Carth had found her and wrapped his arms around her, shielding her as much as he could from the vicious rain. And then the rain didn't seem so harsh, and the dark clouds of the sky brightened…

It only took a few moments for Rani to remember what had happened the previous day. She groaned and pulled the covers over her head, trying to block out the memory of the terrible interview. As she lay there, she realized Carth was not in the bed with her, and she could hear the faint sounds of water from the shower.

An idea came to Rani, and she smiled mischievously as she crept out of the bed and stripped. She knew a great way to get her mind off things.

She opened the door to their personal 'fresher and walked into the glass-walled recycling shower. Carth had his back to her, his hands braced against the wall as the pulsating shower heads gently engulfed him with water. Rani wondered if something was wrong, and her bare foot made a squeaky noise as she shifted. The admiral spun around, and Rani saw the pleasantly surprised smile on his face.

"Well, _someone's_ feeling better," he teased, daring to run his eyes over her bronzed body.

"I certainly am. Do I look like I feel better?" she asked, winking and inching closer to him.

"You're always beautiful to me," he said, his voice dropping lower to a serious tone.

Rani smiled in appreciation. He always knew how to make her feel better. Just being near him made her burdens seem lighter. Then Rani did what she came into the 'fresher to do, and she kissed Carth, running her hands through his wet hair as the jets of water struggled to cool down their interlocking bodies.

Later, Rani lay in their bed, the sheet drawn up around her as she watched Carth get dressed.

"Why the rush?" she asked.

"Well, gorgeous, I hadn't planned on your little surprise this morning. I have a meeting with Chodo Habat that started ten minutes ago."

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't know…" Rani said, sitting up and feeling guilty for delaying Carth.

Carth smiled and sat on the bed beside her, now fully dressed in his Republic Officer uniform. "Don't be sorry, Rani. I've waited a long time to get some time with you." He kissed her softly then pulled back. "Besides, Ithorians are known for their patience."

Rani giggled and waved Carth off as he rushed out.

She lounged in bed for a few minutes, trying to stave off the memories of Destrik that threatened to resurface.

_Damn that reporter!_ Rani thought. If it hadn't been for her stupid questions, those repressed memories would be neatly hidden in her subconscious, where they belonged. Rani knew it wasn't the healthiest thing to do—to bury her painful memories. But that was the only way she had learned to deal with them and still live on.

At least Evy had made Ce-Ira-Mundi give her the rest of the week off. Rani pulled herself out of the cozy bed and threw one of Carth's undershirts on to hide her nakedness. It was loose on her and fell mid-thigh, but it was very comfortable. She often stole his clothes to lounge around in.

Rani went into the common area of the roomy apartment and walked over to the kitchen, intending on making some caffa. She pulled out the canister of ground caf beans, sniffing the distinct aroma, when she heard one of the bedroom doors swish open behind her. She wondered whether Trentyn or Atton were still at home; she doubted it was Evy. The nurse had been spending just as much time, if not more, at work than Rani.

"Would you like some caffa?" Rani questioned her roommate.

"Uh…sure," came the answer.

Rani stiffened when she realized the voice belonged to neither Atton nor Tren; it sounded very familiar. She turned around slowly and was shocked to see Dustil.

"Dustil! What are you doing here? I mean not that I mind, I just didn't know you were here." Rani cursed her unthinking tongue as she saw the dismayed look on the young man's face. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel unwelcome.

"Trentyn brought me here," Dustil replied, seeming a bit tongue-tied.

Rani suddenly realized that this was probably as awkward for him as it was for her. Then she blushed, remembering how she had distracted Carth and that was why telling her of Dustil's presence slipped his mind.

"It's…it's nice to see you again. You look good," she said, smiling faintly.

"Thank you, you look…uh…good, too," Dustil said nervously. His eyes had flitted over her clothing, or lack thereof, briefly.

Suddenly, Rani found the whole situation extremely amusing, and she couldn't stifle her laughter. It burst forth and cut right through the tension. Dustil looked startled at first, but he soon cracked a smile.

"I'm sorry…this is just so awkward, and I…I'm glad to see you and I'm glad you are here."

"It is very nice to see you, Rani," Dustil said, unsmiling, but with conviction.

Rani tried not to analyze Dustil's words and instead went back to her chore.

"So, _would_ you like some caffa?" She said with lightness in her voice.

"I would love some."

As Rani started the brewing of the caffa, she marveled at how much Dustil had changed, not only in looks. He had matured in all ways, and looked a bit older than the nineteen years he was. It was only natural, considering all he had been through since the bombing of Telos. Rani thought about putting something a bit more modest on, but figured that it would only be more awkward if she went and changed now.

"So, Dustil, are you hungry?"

Dustil looked at Rani quizzically. "That's it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Dustil began, "I expected some other kinds of questions like 'How did you manage to escape the Jedi after the Battle? Do you still hate your father? Are you still with the Sith?'"

"I would never ask you those things, Dustil," Rani replied.

"I know _you_ wouldn't… I'm sorry, I just…I'm tired of the questions and the running and the lying…"

Rani covered one of Dustil's hands with her own. "You don't need to answer any questions here. This is your home, Dustil, should you choose it to be."

The hand she touched was unnaturally still, and Rani worried she had said something wrong. Dustil's dark eyes met hers, and she saw a strange mix of emotions in them—emotions she was too afraid to identify. She pulled her hand back from Dustil's and tugged at the bottom edge of the shirt she wore before making another attempt to lighten the mood.

"So, see anything good on holovision lately?"

------------------------

Admiral Onasi rushed through the apartment complex, barely taking notice of the figure that lurked in the corner. Even if he had been paying attention, Carth wouldn't have seen the man there. Jene was trained to be perfect at what he did. If he wasn't perfect, he would die, it was as simple as that.

"Admiral Onasi," he called out. Jene had recognized the admiral from holovision. He rarely watched it, but suffering from insomnia the night before, he had switched it on out of pure boredom. The local channels of the holovision were rife with images of a dark-haired and good-looking woman who was running for senator. It was a lot of publicity, bad publicity.

Even some news reports mentioned the admiral as her boyfriend, and Jene had been faintly amused to see such a respected and high-ranking officer of the Republic gossiped about on holovision.

"Yes?" the admiral replied, his expression mildly curious.

It was obvious to Jene that Onasi was in a hurry, so he decided to just be succinct.

"I am Specialist Jene Cyrus," he stated, noticing the Admiral taking in his unique appearance.

"You are the one sent to help make sure the Restoration Project goes well?" Carth asked, remembering viewing a couple of top secret documents about the possible involvement of a "specialist."

"Yes, that's me," Jene answered simply, standing stiffly.

"I have a meeting with Chodo Habat right now—maybe you should come along. The project is being interfered with, and there have even been a few outright attacks by that damned organization Czerka."

Jene nodded as they walked briskly. Carth filled him in on everything else dealing with the project, even going as far as mentioning the problems his girlfriend, the senator-hopeful, was having with the media concerning her campaign.

"…So basically we need all the help we can get," Carth continued as they reached the Ithorian compound. "It's good to have you on board, Specialist Cyrus."

Jene walked alongside Admiral Onasi as they entered the Ithorian compound, and he was nothing short of amazed at just how trusting the Admiral was. Jene had just walked out of the shadows, wearing battle armor and covered in weaponry, and he had simply taken him at his word and spilled all sorts of intelligence right off the bat, no questions asked. Jene could have been _anyone_, and yet he had been trusted at his word, without any checks or requests for identification. For someone rumored to be rife with trust issues, Onasi certainly was soft. This could be potentially dangerous, but at the same time perhaps Jene could use it to his advantage.

He listened intently to the admiral as he filled him in on the details, and already ideas were beginning to form in his head, particularly about how to deal with his girlfriend's media problems. Ordinarily he wouldn't have given it much thought, but being accused of being allied with the Sith was grave indeed. Jene almost took it as a personal insult that an innocent woman was being accused of this for political reasons and the media was mocking the memory of the Sith—and, by extension, those they killed—by using them for their ratings games. He would make them pay for such a thing, and he knew how.

Jene and Admiral Onasi entered the office of Chodo Habat, closing the door behind them. Even though he knew Chodo wasn't in the military, Jene saluted and then stood off to the side. The Ithorian seemed slightly confused, so the admiral spoke up.

"Sorry I'm late, I got caught up in a few things. This man here is Specialist Jene Cyrus, the one they sent to help make sure the Restoration Project goes smoothly."

"Very good," Chodo bellowed out of his throats before continuing. "The project needs more protectors if we are to succeed. Czerka's grown more determined, and now there've even been outright attacks, but we can never find enough evidence to charge them with anything."

Admiral Onasi nodded and then replied, "So I guess we should first try to get some information from them, but how? It isn't like we're going to be able to just ask their goons who they're taking orders from. But maybe...why don't we send Specialist Cyrus to dig something up on them?"

Jene looked up at the mention of his name and said, "Yeah, I'll do it, but wouldn't it make more sense to just find a way to stop them? The legal system won't work on Czerka—they're too big, and besides, the security forces treat them like senators, I swear."

"No, we need to deal with this lawfully, or we will be no better than they are."

Jene was about to object, but he saw it would be futile, so he nodded and walked out of the room. He was going to get the admiral his information all right, but no one had told him _how_ he was supposed to go about getting it. Either the admiral was too trusting or simply naive, but either way it came to the same thing. It was time Jene put an end to this pussying around and got some actual results. And while he was at it, he was going to solve the senator-hopeful's little problem. He didn't know her, but it was imperative to him that the accusations stopped. It was time to get to work, and in the process test out his new stealth field generator.


	11. Altercation

Sheren Tresel stepped into her office, intent on finishing up some background research for her next interview. It was dark in the room, and as she moved to turn on the lights, she felt a ring of cold metal press against the side of her head. Her back arched with shock as she realized it was a blaster tip, and she opened her mouth to scream when a voice next to her whispered, "Not a sound, if you want to live. Close the door, keep the lights off." She nodded nervously and closed the door behind her, practically quaking with fear.

She squeaked out, "What do you want from—"

"Do not speak unless spoken to, Miss Tresel. If you do exactly as I say, you will walk out of this office alive. If not...well, let's just say you'll be having a closed-casket funeral." The man paused a moment to let his words sink in, then continued. "First, who told you about Miss Taraster's past?"

"Is that what this is about? Miss—"

"I am asking the question here, Miss Tresel. Now please answer it."

"I—I can't. I have an obligation to keep my sources anonymous."

"It's your source or your life, Miss Tresel."

"Okay, okay! It was...Illian Releu. He works for Czerka, I think."

"Very good, Miss Tresel. How did mister Releu contact you?"

"I received a letter one day with a detailed report of Miss Taraster's...exploits. Apparently Releu was being careless, because it had his name on the envelope. I set up the interview the next day."

"Do you still have the letter and the envelope?"

"Yes."

"Good, may I have it?"

"Y—yes, I'll go get it from my desk."

She moved forward, but the man stopped her by putting the barrel of his gun in front of her neck. He said, "No, I'll get it. You stay right there."

The man walked slowly toward the desk and reached into the different drawers, eventually pulling out an envelope. He must have felt the engraved name on it, she thought. He then walked back to her, and continued speaking. "You know, of course, that everything in here about the Sith is a lie?"

"No, it had records and everyth—"

"I don't believe you understand me, Miss Tresel. _It was a lie_. And you are going to issue a formal apology to Miss Taraster tonight on the holovision for slandering her. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head slowly.

He concluded by saying, "Very good. Now, one more thing: if one word gets out about our little chat from anyone, I will hold you _personally_ responsible. Do not go to the security forces; they won't help you and I will find out. Do not say anything to your co-workers, your boyfriend, anyone. Understood?"

Again, she nodded, and he walked into the shadows of the office. She heard a window slide open and then close again a moment later. Sheren felt her way over to her desk and sat down. She held herself together for another moment and then began crying.

--------------------

Wilson Snorri, a watchman for Czerka Corporation, was performing his rounds when he heard a faint crash coming from the archive room. He rushed to open the door and looked in at the rows upon rows of file cabinets, most of which held information about Czerka employees, along with financial records and material even he didn't know about. He rushed down the aisles to the entrance of the "top secret" vault. Ordinarily it was guarded by laser turrets, but someone had deactivated them, which was an amazing feat in and of itself considering their advanced technology. Czerka had had them custom-ordered for this sort of job. The vault door was open, and he hurried inside, but he could find no trace of anyone being in there or taking anything. Everything seemed to be in order, except a single piece of paper lying on the floor. Wilson looked at it, his eyes widening, and then he called to sound the alarm.

Czerka employees and guardian droids combed the entire compound, but they found nothing out of the ordinary. Whoever had gotten into the archives was gone, but with what exactly they didn't know. It would take much longer to sort through all the papers and datapads to see which ones were missing.

--------------------

Jene returned to the apartment complex with the datapad and envelope in his pockets, which no one had seen obviously. He went into his room first, putting away his improved stealth generator (which had worked out far better than even he had imagined) and exchanging it for his sun rifle and Annihilator before heading up two levels, scanning the hallway for apartment numbers. He had seen Admiral Onasi come out of his apartment before, and he had memorized the number. Eventually, he found it, but instead of making his presence known, he sat down just beside the door, his knees bent and out in front of him. He doubted the admiral was home yet, so he would wait for him here until his return. Jene was used to waiting, so it didn't bother him too much. He had much to discuss with the admiral, though, and he hoped he would return soon.

-----------------

"Dude, this place smells like crap!"

"There was crap in here…maybe the smell will just go away."

"Atton, did you shower today?"

Atton sniffed his underarms. "It's not that bad, is it?"

Trentyn laughed. "I'll give you some cologne or something."

"I was thinking that maybe we could stop by the medical facility later."

Trentyn raised a dark brow. "Why don't you just say that you want to see Evy?"

"Okay, fine, I want to see Evy! Let's go!"

Trentyn looked around the storage facility that would now serve as their new headquarters. It had been cleaned out overnight by several cleaning droids, and the two men had just furnished it sparsely with desks and cots. It was ready for their newest recruits to occupy.

"All right, man, we'll go, but only if we can stop by the cantina… I'm aching for a drink."

"Just a drink?" Atton asked as they locked their new hideout and walked down the corridor.

"A cold drink and a hot babe…"

Atton and Trentyn strode into the medical facility and went straight to Evy's office. It was unlocked, but she was not there.

"Should we just wait for her?" Tren asked, plopping down on a chair.

Atton glanced over the paperwork scattered across Evy's desk. Absentmindedly, he picked one up and found it to be her list of current patients along with their room numbers.

"No, man, look what I found!"

Atton grinned, waving the paper in front of Tren's face. Tren grabbed the paper, reading it.

"You don't expect us to go through all of these rooms looking for her, do you?" he asked, his laziness kicking in.

"I just want to see her, okay? If you don't want to help me find her, then don't."

"No need to get all crabby about it," Tren said, standing up. "You miss her, don't you?"

"I…I haven't been able to see her much since we left Coruscant, and it would be nice to get a little attention from her."

"Marry her, that'll get her attention," Tren joked.

Atton shot him a scathing look before taking the paper back from Tren.

"All right, fine, we'll do it your way. But I wouldn't worry about things too much if I was you, Atton. I mean, look at the number of patients she's handling. No wonder she's busy."

As Atton and Tren divided to search for Evy, Atton thought about how grateful he was to have found a buddy like Tren. He was just the kind of friend Atton needed: non-judgmental, comedic, and good for keeping his mind out of the darkness. Their friendship was as deep as a brotherly relationship. If Tren wasn't there to be his business partner and companion, Atton knew the frustrating situation with Evy would have already pushed him off the deep end.

Tren had always been lucky, and he was only reminded of it again when the first room he walked into was the one Evy was in. She was slouched in the only chair in the intensive care room, the patient's chart still clutched in one of her hands. Tren smiled and leaned down over her when he realized she was sleeping. A few wavy tresses had escaped from her low ponytail, and Tren gently tucked them behind her ears, out of her face. He rummaged around in the cabinet, totally ignoring the unconscious patient, and he pulled out a blanket. Tren placed it over Evy, but she sat up suddenly at the contact.

"Force, Tren! You scared the daylights out of me!" Evy exclaimed.

"Sorry," Tren apologized immediately.

Evy saw the saddened look on Tren's face and the blanket he held in his hands and immediately put it together. She was pleasantly surprised at his concern for her. It was not always like Tren to go out of his way for the comfort of someone else.

"Oh, no, don't be sorry, I just got startled… I didn't even realize I'd fallen asleep."

"You were definitely sleeping, kitten. I saw you drooling."

"I was not drooling!" Evy said indignantly. She snatched the blanket from Tren, folded it, and put it back away. She surreptitiously wiped her mouth to make sure there wasn't any drool.

Tren laughed loudly and leaned casually against the wall, watching her every move. It made her a bit nervous.

"So what are you doing here, anyway?"

"I just came to see you," he answered with a grin.

"Yeah…right…"

"Is that so hard to believe I like to see you?" Tren asked, moving closer to her. "You are very nice to look at."

Evy rolled her eyes and ignored the strange exhilarating feeling of his nearness.

"All right…fine, it was Atton's idea to come see you. Apparently he's beginning to feel ignored.

"He said that?"

"More or less…"

"Do you think I'm ignoring Atton?"

"I don't think I want to answer that, kitten."

"You're no help at all!"

"Look, Evy, if you want my advice, then fine, here it is for what it's worth. I think you and Atton need to take some time out to think. It's obvious the two of you love each other, but for a relationship to work, in reality, much more than just love is needed. You need to be compatible and believe in the same things. You need to have beliefs that don't clash with each other so badly that you can't say a damn thing about it without getting into an argument."

Evy suddenly got the feeling Tren wasn't talking about her and Atton anymore.

A groan sounded from the other side of the room, and Evy rushed over to her patient. It was the mysterious man with the terrible injuries. Evy had been waiting all night and most of the morning for him to wake up.

"Tren, I have to attend to my patient; this one is badly injured. Could you tell Atton I'm sorry I'm busy and I will see him later? I get the evening and night off."

Trentyn nodded before heading out. He walked down the hallway looking for Atton while he thought about the relationship between Atton and Evy. It was obviously in trouble, but Tren wasn't too worried about it… After all, he believed that whatever was going to happen would, so why worry about it? He kept that thought in his mind as he brushed away memories of Bastila.

-------------------------------------

Dustil sat on the couch in the common room of the apartment. He was bent forward, with his head down as he stared at his hands.

_How many innocent lives were snatched away by these hands?_ Dustil questioned himself. At the time of his service with the Sith, he did not think twice about slaughtering those he was ordered to kill. His anger and resentment had consumed him, and at the time, he did not care about what was right or wrong, good or evil…he only wanted to escape the pain that plagued him—or punish others because of his own torture.

Dustil could still remember almost the exact moment he had been saved from the darkness. It was when he was leading Rani to Destrik on his flagship, and while he had watched her apprehensive face, he had realized that he did care. He realized he cared about more than his pain; he cared about her and her pain. In that moment, he stepped away from the path of darkness and offered her a way out. She hadn't taken it, of course; she refused to leave Carth at the mercy of Destrik. Since that fateful moment, his misdeeds of the past haunted him. There were very few moments he did not feel guilty…

The door indicator rang, and Dustil went to answer it. Rani was in her room, resting, and he didn't want to disturb her. He was surprised by who he found at the door.

"Is Carth here?" Igrayne demanded, barely looking at Dustil.

"No, he left earlier," Dustil answered, amused by Igrayne's cold manner.

"You are not surprised by his presence?" Bao-Dur asked.

"Why should she be? She visited me last night," Dustil retorted.

"Is this true, Igrayne?" Bao had an unusual dark flash in his eyes.

"What's it to you, Zabrak?" Dustil slipped back into his old behavior around Igrayne. He was glad now that he had not taken advantage of her when he had the chance, but Igrayne had freely sought his comfort once…until Bao-Dur had come in and interrupted it.

Bao-Dur clenched his fists and his jaw muscles tightened. He was obviously exercising an enormous amount of restraint. The Zabrak tried to ignore Dustil all together, instead focusing his eyes on Igrayne.

"When I came here last night to get the…to get Indy's belonging, I found Dustil here, that is all."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Bao asked.

"Maybe she didn't want you to know," Dustil added.

"You should stay out of our affairs," Bao said directly to Dustil.

"Right, just like you stayed out of our affairs when you took her from my bed naked? I would have had her, you know, if you hadn't conveniently showed up at that moment."

Dustil couldn't help it; he was bitter about it. The only other woman he had ever seen naked was Selene. He had even slept with Selene several times, but now she was dead, and Igrayne had seemed like she knew more about how to please a man. Dustil had wanted to claim her body…a body that seemed to be made for pleasure.

"Enough!" Igrayne interrupted the exchange. Her voice seemed weaker than normal.

"Are you okay?" Rani's voice sounded behind Dustil, and he immediately felt embarrassed. How much of the conversation had she heard?

"I'm…I…I feel faint," Igrayne finally said, raising her hand to her forehead.

Rani rushed up to her friend and felt the skin of her cheek. "Igrayne, you are burning up—and you are clammy! You may be sick!"

Igrayne could no longer stand on her own, and she started to pitch forward. Rani held on to her before Bao lifted her easily into his arms.

"I'm taking her to Mical," he said simply, a mix of emotions crossing his face.

"Good idea. Would you like me to come with you?" Rani asked.

"No, you need your rest, too. I'll take her," Bao responded, walking off with Igrayne.

"I'll be fine," Igrayne called out weakly.

Rani stood at the door until the couple disappeared around the corner. Then she turned back to Dustil. He hoped his hasty words would not fare badly for Igrayne later…

Dustil looked at Rani, and his heart plummeted at the look of disappointment on her face. Apparently she had heard the conversation. Dustil opened his mouth to say something, anything to wash away her disapproval of his behavior. If there was one thing he absolutely could not bear, it was the pain of the beautiful woman standing across from him. Rani dropped her eyes from his face as she pushed her long curls over one shoulder. Then Rani saw something.

"Hi…uh…do you need something?" she asked a man sitting outside the apartment door.

The man was dressed in all black and had mismatched eyes.

"Are you Miss Taraster?"

"Yes…"

"I am Jene Cyrus; I'm waiting for Admiral Onasi. I'm kind of working with him."

"Oh, okay. Well hi, Jene, I'm Rani. Nice to meet you."

Dustil watched as the two shook hands, and Rani shot the man a dazzling smile. Dustil felt a slight pang; it was hard for him to get such a smile out of her.

"It is a pleasure to meet you also," Jene said, smiling back.

Dustil again was disturbed. This man did not seem like the type to smile much.

_Snap out of it, Dustil, _he scolded himself silently. He backed away from the doorway and settled on the couch, determined to get away from the scene. He knew logically that he was just overreacting to the friendly exchange. Rani was friendly with pretty much anyone.

"Why do I even care?" Dustil mumbled to himself as he tried to ignore the voices from the doorway.

-------------------

Bao-Dur arrived at the hospital with Igrayne and waited patiently for Mical to finish with his previous patients. She was not nearly as flushed now, and she seemed to have regained strength enough to stand on her own. It was obvious the woman was affected by the run-in with Dustil back in Carth's apartment, but she had seemed entirely unconcerned with his presence there when he first made his appearance. That concerned him.

"Name?" a bored-looking nurse dressed in an official uniform said, giving Igrayne a once-over.

"Igrayne."

She jotted it down on a small clipboard and informed them that Mical would be with them shortly. Their request was granted a few moments later when Mical parted a small curtain and stared at them, aghast.

"Igrayne, what are you doing here?"

"Mical," Bao-Dur said very calmly. "She is feeling ill."

"It's okay, Bao. I told you already it was just a little dizzy spell."

"You are not taking care of yourself."

"Bao-Dur is right. You look flushed," Mical said, nodding toward the small examination room. The Zabrak helped her hop up onto the table to suffer the short check of her vitals to make sure everything was running smoothly. She laid back against the cool durasteel table and felt a clammy hand on her forehead. Mical repeated the touch on her cheek.

"Yes, she does feel a little warm to me."

He went over and made a notation on his board, similar to what the nurse had done. When he finished, he went to feel her glands. The discomfort wasn't a factor for Igrayne, who was more concerned with the staid-looking Zabrak standing over Mical's shoulder.

"I'll give you a small tonic. It should take the fever away and improve your complexion. You should take care to get enough rest, though, or my efforts will be in vain."

"Thank you, Mical."

The blonde doctor smiled and returned to compiling his notes. When he was satisfied with his prognosis, he walked out of the room to fetch the needed ingredients.

Igrayne balanced a hand over her stomach, trying to look as ill as possible to avoid speaking with the Zabrak. She didn't need to try hard. She felt pretty sick as it was, and she focused her eyes on a spot in the distance to keep from involuntarily emptying her stomach of its contents. That plan was put to rest, however, when Bao-Dur spoke first.

"What were you doing in Carth's apartment?"

"I told you already... I was picking up Indy's artifact," Igrayne said. She felt the flush return to her cheeks with record speed. She was tired of making excuses and defending her actions when she was blameless.

"You didn't tell me that Dustil was on Telos."

"I didn't know I was supposed to _report_ to you." Igrayne put a hand up to prevent another comment from him, but it didn't work. Though he exercised a considerable amount of restraint given the circumstances, he was far from pleased with the whole situation.

"I don't like it when you lie to me."

"It's not like I spent the night with him!"

"According to him, you did."

Mical entered the room with the medicine and clapped it to Igrayne's palm. She eased out of a sitting position onto her feet, smiling.

"Thanks again."

"It was my pleasure."

Igrayne was happy to see the blonde doctor. Playing arbiter to all of Bao-Dur's and Dustil's disputes was enough to make her blood boil. And lately she didn't feel well enough to mediate. She was just happy to be in a room without bickering.

"Have you seen Evy?" Igrayne asked.

"I believe she is with a patient. If you wait, she will get off her shift sometime soon."

Mical checked his wrist chrono.

"No, that's okay. There's no need to disturb her if she's busy."

"All right."

Igrayne and Bao-Dur left the hospital in silence, returning to the relative safety of their apartment.

--------------------

_What would a Republic captain be doing with a lightsaber?_ Mical asked himself. At that moment, one of the protocol droids at the medical facility approached the blonde-haired doctor.

"Here are the security droid patrol recordings you asked for, sir."

"Thank you, TT-83. I'll look over these now; maybe they can shed some light on all the recent patients."

The droid left his company, and Mical put the disc in a nearby holoprojector. On one droid's round in Bay 37, it caught a battle in progress through a hole in the wall. It showed a Republic officer and two mercenaries exchanging blasterfire. The officer had handed a credit chip to the mercs, and then they attacked him. He pressed a button on the pistol he was holding, and the hand-grip opened, dropping a lightsaber. The blade sprang to life, and after beating back wave after wave of fire, the officer advanced on the mercs. He sliced one's hand off and cut the other's rifle into two pieces.

_That's where that mercenary brought me the other day…_ Mical thought.

The officer was Captain Mithic, and this recording showed his attack. He displayed impressive skill with a lightsaber, and excellent control of the Force. Mical's brow furrowed as he digested this information.

_But what would Mithic be doing with a lightsaber? He's not Force-sensitive, is he?_

----------------------

Mithic jerked awake and observed his surroundings. He gathered from the medical equipment attached to him and from the hospital-y fresh smell that he was in the medical facility on Citadel Station. He was dressed in patient clothing, and had bandages all over his body. His uniform was folded on the table to his left, but his other belongings were missing. He strained to remember what had happened to him, and then he saw the face of Caine and the armored helmet of Cody. He remembered the fight, but after that, everything was blank. Mithic donned his uniform and left his patient room. One of the passing nurses recognized him and was surprised by his ability to stand.

"What are you doing out of bed, Captain?" she asked him.

"I'm trying to find my gear, and then I'm leaving. Do you know what they did with my blaster?"

"You need to rest, Captain. I'll go see what Dr. Disciple's diagnosis on you is, and he'll be with you shortly. Until then, stay in your room, please."

"All right, I don't want to anger the people who kept me alive. But try to hurry Mical up, okay?"

The nurse left the room, heading toward Dr. Disciple's office. In a few moments, the door to Mithic's room opened, and the blonde doctor he had seen four months ago at the Battle of Dantooine entered.

"So, Captain, I hear you woke up this morning. We didn't expect you to surface for a few days."

"Yeah, well, that's where the Force can help you."

"Speaking of the Force, would you like to explain to me how you got a lightsaber and also how you managed to learn how to use it and how to use the Force?"

Mithic sighed. "So you found it, didn't you? Well, I would like my lightsaber back now…and my blaster, too."

"You'll receive them upon your exit. I would like you to answer my questions."

"Well, I didn't really learn how to use the Force; it just came to me somehow."

Mical was once a Jedi, and his Force ability allowed him to see just how powerful Mithic was. He was so attuned to the light side of the Force that it was as if the Force itself created Mithic.

"One day, I was just a normal person growing up on Kamino…and the next, I had this strange urge to read up on the Force. The day after that, I built my first lightsaber."

"Wait…you lived on Kamino?"

"Yeah, I was born there. Does that mean something to you?"

"No, it doesn't. Please continue with your story."

"Anyway, that's how I got that lightsaber. Now, Doc, how am I doing?"

"Well, you seem to be doing fine despite your injuries. I suggest you try not to do anything strenuous for a few days and get some rest. Other than that, you're as healthy as ever. You are free to leave whenever you wish, Captain."

At that, Mithic left the room. He informed the nurse at the front desk that he required his equipment and that Dr. Disciple had cleared him for leave. His weapons, datapad, and commlink were returned to him, and he left, heading toward his ship.

Inside the docking bay, Mithic noticed a black starfighter that had landed not far from the _Sunbeam_. It looked like the owner of it had modified it heavily from its base design, which Mithic did not recognize. _That guy must have a taste for firepower_, Mithic thought to himself.

Mithic entered his ship. He went to his quarters on the ship and put his lightsaber back in its place in his blaster's hand grip. He returned the blaster to its holster and placed it on his bedside table. Mithic had decided to take Mical's advice and rest for a while. He climbed into bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

--------------------

Friz walked around Citadel Station, confused. He had been left at the cantina by Mithic, and he did not remember where he was supposed to go. Friz had no idea where he belonged on this station. He remembered a starship, but not where the ship was or what it looked like. The only one on the station who knew him was Mithic, but Mithic was nowhere to be found. Friz decided to go back to the cantina to see if the man was there. Mithic enjoyed drinking something that Friz found repulsive, but the captain seemed attached to that drink.

_Maybe he'll come back for more ale later_, he thought.

But for now, he would wait.

----------------------

After being awakened by Tren's earlier visit, Evy intently watched as her patient began to stir. The mysterious man opened his eyes as much as his facial injuries permitted, and he stared blankly at the ceiling for several moments before his unfocused gaze fell upon Evy. She offered him a smile, leaning in a bit closer to observe him. 

"Hello," she said quietly, as her voice took on a sympathetic tone. "You've been out of it for awhile. I'm Evy…your nurse here at the facility."

When the man didn't respond, Evy continued to speak to him, taking his hand within her own in a comforting gesture.

"Do you remember anything?"

Silence hung heavily in the air and the man seemed to concentrate hard as he continued to stare blankly at Evy. After several moments, he shook his head weakly. Deciding to try a different tactic, Evy prompted him further.

"So what's your name? Can you tell me your name?"

The man hesitated yet again, but he was finally able to find his voice.

"Aidan…" he rasped, his voice shaky and weak from lack of use. The word had scarcely left his mouth when his face contorted in pain and he gave a feeble cough. His medication was apparently wearing off, and the effects did not seem to be pleasant. As quickly as she could, Evy administered some powerful pain reliever through his catheter. Within a few minutes, he seemed to visibly relax, and Evy hovered above him in order to check his vitals.

"It's all right," she soothed, as she looked over him. "You're going to be all right…"

"You're so pretty," the man drawled unexpectedly, as his words slurred together. "Damn shame… "

Evy's fair brow creased in confusion and she leaned in closer to better hear what he was saying. The man continued to utter seemingly random nonsense as she observed him. She guessed that it must have been some strange side effect of his meds.

"Ithorians won't last long, no, no… not long at all… damn shame…"

As the man continued to ramble, Evy only became more confused. What was he talking about? She leaned in even closer, determined to make sense of what he was saying.

"So pretty… so pretty… nothing is as it seems…" Aidan said dreamily before succumbing to sleep once again.

Evy stared at his unconscious form for several minutes with a pensive look upon her features. His drug-induced ramblings didn't seem too out of the ordinary, since their content could have been obtained from a variety of things—including every cliché holovid on the market. And yet, something about him was incredibly suspicious…

The nurse let out an unexpected yawn, feeling exhausted as she glanced at her wrist chrono. She would report her unusual findings to Mical tomorrow, but for now it was time to retire for the evening. Despite her newfound mystery regarding her patient, she was determined to enjoy her night off, and she left the facility without a second thought.

At long last, Evy entered the apartment and went straight to the room she shared with Atton. For once, everyone else appeared to be out of the building, because she didn't see anyone in the main living area.

As she opened the door to her room, she was surprised to see Atton walk out of the 'fresher wearing only a pair of pants. He was in the process of rubbing his hair dry with a towel when he stopped in his tracks, slightly startled to see Evy standing before him.

"Sweets," he said, by way of greeting. "I didn't expect you to be home so early."

"Yeah, well... For once they actually gave me the evening off. What a surprise, right?" she joked sarcastically. "So what did you do today?"

Atton discarded the towel as he came to sit upon the end of their bed, watching as Evy removed her jacket.

"Oh, nothing much. Tren and I finally got the new headquarters cleaned out. Place smelled like crap, though. Hence why I needed the shower."

Evy gave a slight chuckle, making her way toward her dresser.

"Well, in any case, that's good to hear," she said, deciding not to voice her thoughts. "It seems like you and Tren are making progress. Things should be up and running soon then, I suppose?"

Atton nodded. "Yep. So how was your day, babe? Busy as always?"

"Busy is a mild way of putting it. We get more and more patients every day…sometimes it's just kind of overwhelming, you know? It's nice to just be able to relax for awhile."

"Yeah, I would imagine."

A few moments of silence passed in which Evy regarded herself in the mirror, releasing her hair from its messy ponytail. Her blonde locks spilled over her shoulders and down her back. At the sight of her untamed hair, a grin spread across Atton's face. The temptation was just too great. Before Evy could produce a hairbrush and fix the mess, he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer to him.

"Gosh, you smell so good," Atton said absentmindedly, burying his face in her hair and breathing close to her ear. "You're so beautiful…"

Although his close proximity and unusual display of affection sent pleasant chills down her spine, Evy rolled her eyes.

"I smell like antiseptic and hospital, my hair resembles a womp rat's nest, and I look like I haven't slept in a week," she said simply. "Are you sure you've got the right girl?"

Atton didn't respond. Instead, he slowly rubbed his hands along her bare arms, lightly tantalizing her. At his simple touch, Evy suddenly felt weak and giddy. His familiar presence was almost too much for her to bear, and the clean scent of his body wasn't helping, either. It was horribly tempting for her to just turn around and forgive him for everything, to just allow him to hold her and love her like he wanted to…but she wasn't that weak. She'd never forgive herself if she backed down. Without further ado, Evy pulled away from him and resumed brushing her hair.

Frustrated that his tactics weren't working, Atton frowned deeply.

"C'mon you're not still sore about this whole marriage thing, are you? Aren't we over that?"

Not surprisingly, he received no answer.

"I love you, Evy, you know that, right?"

She turned around to face him, dropping the brush upon the counter.

"Of course," she said sincerely. "And I love you, too."

"So isn't that enough?"

"It should be…but it's not enough. Not to me. I don't understand why you're so viciously opposed to marriage."

Atton scoffed at her. "Yeah, well I don't understand why you want to be tied down so badly!"

Evy's temper was growing, and she knew that another argument was about to ensue, but she retorted anyway.

"Oh, so that's what you think this is? You think that I'm 'tying you down'?"

"No, that's not what I meant!" Atton said quickly, desperately trying to amend his statement. It took him several seconds to find the right words. "It's just...well…have you ever thought about what your life would be like without me?"

Evy shook her head, crossing her arms as she leaned her weight upon one hip, and her voice became low with emotion.

"I honestly can't say that I have. I don't know I'd do without you sometimes, Atton. I almost lost you once, and it was the most horrible and helpless feeling I have ever witnessed. I treaded through a lot of dark places in my life. And you helped me see the light again. I can't even imagine my life without you…can you?"

Atton ran his fingers through his slightly damp hair, immediately looking guilty.

"Well, yeah...sometimes I can."

A solemn expression passed over Evy's features as her gaze fell upon the scar that still marred Atton's otherwise perfect abdomen. Although he had suffered the terrible wound all those months ago and it had long been healed, it would forever be a testament to Evy's love for him. She gently brought her hand to Atton's torso, allowing her fingertips to gently trace along his scar.

"How could you say something like that?" she asked, her voice hardly above a whisper. "Have you forgotten so easily?"

"No, of course not!" he exclaimed. "I'm eternally grateful for what you've done for me, Evy. You saved my life and I couldn't ask for anything more than that. But somehow…I guess…oh, I don't even know anymore!"

"Atton Rand! Just spit it out already!"

He released a heavy sigh, looking extremely hesitant to voice his feelings.

"I guess that despite all of the happiness you gave to me, I just miss my freedom."

"Freedom? Oh, so now it's about your freedom?!" Evy's eyes narrowed dangerously as she pointed a threatening finger at his bare chest. "Let me get this straight…you would rather have your freedom instead of my love? Is that why you don't want to marry me?"

"Well, yeah... I mean, no. Damn! Well, that's part of it. Think about it. If we don't get married, then I can have both, right?"

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! It doesn't even make sense. You act like you're some slave to me or something. There has to be more to it than that."

"Okay, Evy. You wanna hear it? Here it is. If we tie the knot, a lot of things are going to change. And not for the better."

"It's not going to change anything…" argued Evy, as she tried to control her growing anger. "The only difference is the fact I'll be sharing your last name and we'll be officially bound to each other. Nothing else is going to change!"

"Things will change, Evy…and I have a bad feeling about it."

"You and your 'bad feelings,'" she mocked, flailing her arms around dramatically. "Have you ever though about how I feel about the situation? Force, you're so damn selfish sometimes! All you ever think about is what's best for you! A relationship is about compromising, Atton! Sometimes you have to make sacrifices! I think that a little bit of freedom is a fair trade to be with the woman you love…"

Atton glared at her, clearly not happy with the way their conversation had turned.

"Yeah, well you're not the easiest person to get along with either! If you were, then we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. It just seems like nothing I do is good enough for you."

"And I feel the same way! Nothing is ever good enough anymore! It's obvious neither of us is going to be happy no matter what we do…"

"Wait a second," Atton said, as realization finally dawned upon him. "What are you getting at?"

Evy sighed heavily. "I've thought it over and I think that we need a break from this… From all of this. I can't take this any more, Atton. Half of the time I want to love you, and the other half you drive me up the wall! I don't know what else to do, and you're obviously too damn stubborn to see my side of things."

"What are you trying to say? Are you leaving me?" He was practically in hysterics at the thought of Evy walking out on him.

"No, Atton. I'm not leaving you," she stated firmly. "We just need a break, okay? I need some time to myself to think things over."

Evy proceeded to gather a few of her belongings as Atton trailed behind her.

"What's there to think about?!"

"A lot of things, Atton. Believe me, it's better this way."

"I think I deserve a better explanation than you just walking out my door! What are you running from?!"

As she reached for her jacket, Atton grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him so she was forced to look him in the face. His intense brown eyes stared into hers, and she could see the wildness that danced within their depths. It only infuriated her further, and she pulled away from him, heading toward the door in a huff.

"I need to leave, Atton. I'm going back to the medical facility. And remember, you were the one who wanted freedom, so this should be good for you. Maybe you'll finally realize how good you have it once I'm gone for a few days."

"Oh yeah?" he retorted furiously. "We'll see about that! Just leave! See if I care!"

"Fine!"

"_Fine_!"

"Fine!"

Without another word, Evy swiftly made her way out of the room, slamming the door behind her with full force. She fully intended on heading straight back to her office, where nobody could bother her. After everything that had just occurred, the nurse truly needed some alone time...and tears would undoubtedly be shed.

Meanwhile, back in the apartment, Atton stared angrily at the closed door of his room. It seemed to be taunting him, telling him that Evy had won and that he was an idiot for letting her leave. Unable to control the overwhelming anger that bubbled deep inside of him, he took his frustration out on a nearby wall as his fist slammed into it. The release felt satisfying at first until a wave of pain shot through his hand and arm. Atton cursed loudly, cradling his new injury, and with irony he realized that Evy wasn't even there to ease his pain.

-------------------

It was surprisingly easy for him to get Miss Taraster to let him in, but remembering how naive the admiral was, he could believe it was genuine and not a trap. That was one of Jene's main problems: after living in the underground for so long, where no one meant what they said and everyone wanted someone dead, it was horribly difficult to adjust to above the radar. He was consistently amazed by the honesty and trusting of most people, who seemed to be oblivious to even the possibility that someone might be working against them. It might also have been part of the reason why they were so much easier to target. That reporter caved in with just a blaster pressed to her head, but if it were him he'd have just played along long enough to take something and stab him in the ribs with it.

That was the other thing: everyone was unarmed, and they gave him suspicious glances whenever he walked through town with his pistols holstered at his sides. It was like they'd never seen a blaster before in their lives, and the more he saw of them the more he came to believe that to be true.

And that wasn't the only thing. Despite his intellect, which showed when he spoke, people treated him like scum. Just because he liked to protect himself and he wore a lot of black and had a lot of tattoos on his arms, he was "slummy riff-raff." You know, the kind of person the neighborhood "watchdog" would call in an emergency if he got within fifteen feet of their lawns. It shouldn't have bothered him so much, since he was after all always distant, but for some reason those disapproving glances always nagged at him. It wasn't so much that they didn't like him that was the problem; it was that they treated him differently just because of the way he looked.

He was almost thankful Rani didn't give him that kind of look as he walked in, and that might have been why he smiled, though as usual with these things he didn't really know why he got the urge to smile. It wasn't a big, friendly smile, but rather a reserved gesture of contentment. But still it was there.

It was a nice apartment, at least compared to his, with a sofa, a few chairs, and a holovision that didn't look at all like his ratty, used piece of crap one. There were a few adjoining rooms and an actual kitchen. Had he been anyone else, he might have wondered how they got it, but right now he just wanted to sit down and make sure his weapons were in good condition. His Annihilator might be the most powerful weapon ever devised, but all the sensitive instruments combined with all the wires and cables meant that he constantly needed to check it and make sure nothing got loose. One loose wire or gauge out of alignment would cause the thing to destroy itself right in his hands, probably taking him with it. The sun rifle also needed a lot more cleaning than normal blasters, and a few parts were always about to come loose. He figured that once he got an actual workshop with state-of-the-art tools, he'd be able to make a less temperamental model, but until then he always kept some basic tools on him for upkeep.

He took a seat on one of the chairs, ignoring the looks of a man sitting on the nearby couch, and took the Annihilator off his back. He crossed one of his legs over the other and rested the enormous weapon on it as he looked it over. His brow furrowed as he noticed some loose bolts, and he quickly tightened them with his small wrench. There were no other problems with it—except, as he often joked, "The part where I pull the trigger and someone goes home in a dustpan." The sun rifle also seemed to be in good order, so he rested the two weapons against the armrest of the chair, stocks on the floor, and waited for the admiral to return.

He didn't have to wait long, for it was no more than twenty minutes later that Admiral Onasi walked through the door. He didn't look too worse for wear, though Jene could tell just by the way he walked he was under some stress, probably from the whole issue with Czerka. He noticed Jene, and before the admiral could say anything, Jene stood up.

From that moment, Jene knew the news he brought could have one of two outcomes: If the admiral was naive or relatively unprincipled, it would be met with enthusiasm and possibly thanks. If he was observant and morally conscious, he would probably be enraged or, at the very least, disappointed. Today was obviously not the mercenary's lucky day.

"Hello, Admiral. I've been waiting for some time, and Miss Taraster was kind enough to let me wait inside. I hope you don't mind. Either way, let's get straight down to business. I procured some information from very reliable sources..."

He reached into his pocket and produced both the letter and the Czerka datapad, handing them to Admiral Onasi. He looked through him, and his eyes lit up. It was good information, and conclusively linked Czerka both to the problems of the Restoration Project and to Miss Taraster's political campaign, and it even suggested a link to the Sith or some other source. Carth seemed overjoyed for just a moment, and then he asked the one question Jene hoped most that wouldn't occur to him: "Wow, this is great, Jene! Where did you get these?"

If the Force did decide fate, as some believed, then this was obviously its idea of a practical joke. There was no way to smooth-talk his way out of this one. A personal letter to someone else and a datapad with highly sensitive information didn't just fall into his hands. Jene decided it'd be best to just tell the truth this time—for once. It was probably the worst decision he could have made that didn't involve shooting someone.

"I did a little bit of…Mandalorian diplomacy."

It took Carth a bit to realize what he was saying, but when he finally figured it out, the response was immediate.

"You did what?!"

"I got something done, that's what! You see what you get when you don't pansy around? Results. You wanted information, well there it is. Oh, and I got your girlfriend an official apology on the holovision from that bimbo of a reporter for 'slandering' her. It'll probably cost the skank her job, too—always a nice touch."

The tone in which he had said that last part caused the admiral to pause a moment, and he said, "So you kne—"

"Admiral, how could I _not_ know? I saw the holovision; she wouldn't have keeled over like that if it was a lie. Besides, I can smell Sith a light year away. Same way I know the guy on the couch over there's been with the Sith before, and I don't even know his name. You hunt Sith down for a hobby long enough, you start to pick stuff up. But I don't like to see anyone judged for their relations or their past, so I got the reporter to issue an apology on the holovision tonight. Amazing things can be done when you're pressing a blaster to someone's head, as you would learn if you'd ever tried it."

"How can you possibly justify doing that? You strong-armed a reporter into humiliating herself, and Force knows how you got this datapad out of Czerka. I don't even want to know. I don't care how badly they were asking for it—if you stoop to that, you're no better than they are!"

Those were the magic words to set off a psychological time bomb that had been ticking for far too long. It took all the willpower Jene had not to pick up a rifle and shoot the admiral right there, but just by the way he was moving his arms, it was obvious he was losing the battle of wills with himself.

"Don't you _ever_ compare me to them, you spineless piece of hound shit! I don't care who you think you are—if you had half a fucking brain, you'd know I'm nothing like them! But no, your idiotic morality has blinded you to even the possibility that my work could be used for anything other than selfish personal gain! It's time to wake up, Admiral, and smell the fucking flowers before you're six feet under them!"

Jene's hands were dangerously close to his pistols, as were Carth's, and it was obvious to anyone that if someone didn't step in, one of them was going home in a casket.

"No one speaks to my father like that!"

Dustil had sprung from his comfortable seat on the other couch and stepped in between Jene and Carth. That was not a smart thing to do.

Considering his psychological crumble, Jene resisted the urge with great self-control to go for his Annihilator and dissipate Dustil and his admiral father into nothingness. Instead, he reared back his arm and punched Dustil right in the face. The impact sent Dustil to the floor, but he was soon back on his feet, a blaster pointed right at Jene's forehead.

_Should have pulled out the fucking Annihilator,_ he thought.

Dustil Onasi's eyes were narrowed to dark, dangerous slits, and in that moment, it suddenly occurred to Jene who this young man was…

He was _Sith_.

Not just any Sith, because he'd known the moment he'd laid eyes on the unkempt man that he had been involved with the organization, but Dustil had been the second in command after Darth Destrik.

"You piece of Sith shit," Jene Cyrus cursed to Dustil, with a low, growling voice.

Dustil tightened his grip on the blaster, and he audibly gritted his teeth.

It was from this gesture that Jene realized Dustil was not comfortable with killing. And perhaps the young man was as mentally unstable as he himself was.

"Son, put the blaster down," Carth ordered, as if he were speaking to one of his own soldiers.

Dustil swallowed heavily, a lone drip of sweat clinging to a strand of hair that fell into his face. But he didn't move.

Jene was having enough of this. He did not let anyone—_anyone_—stick a blaster in his face.

_This boy deserves to be taught a lesson_, he thought as he considered how easy it would be to kick Dustil and then draw out his own weapon.

"Dustil, this is uncalled for. This is not an appropriate way to act. Dustil, put the blaster down." Carth's words were bordering on pleading. It was obvious to Jene that there were still a lot of unresolved issues between the two, and he imagined that this aggressive behavior on Dustil's part was not helping.

Jene was just about tired of this situation and ready to take matters into his own hands when the door to the master bedroom slid open and Rani walked out. Jene could see her clearly from his stock-still position, and as realization dawned on her, the glass she was holding fell and crashed to the ground.

Dustil swiveled his head around at the racket and saw her with a look of utter shock on her face. It was then that Dustil finally lowered the blaster.

Jene took no chances. His hand flew to his own pistol. He would have no use of it now because Dustil promptly left the apartment.

"I don't approve of your methods, however effective they are. Morality is the only thing which separates us from them, and I intend to hold on to that."

Jene thought the admiral's words were idiotically misguided, and a tad bit hypocritical. _Was he not hiding out his own fugitive son from the very Republic he held so dear?_

Jene Cyrus had enough of the whole situation. He had to leave before things got out of control. He was, after all, only holding on to his own restraint by the breadth of twine.

He turned around and strode out, knowing the admiral would do nothing to stop him.

-------------------

When Igrayne and Bao-Dur arrived at the apartment, he left to do more repair work on some broken droids. Igrayne flopped onto the bed and pulled out her comm unit. She kept it on at all times in case of an emergency. She knew that some of her friends sported similar comm links, so she plugged in the frequency to the person she needed to speak to most right now...

Evy didn't answer her. She should have been done with her patient by now, but the possibility still existed that she was just ignoring Igrayne. That wasn't very likely. Evy always kept in close contact with them all and loudly lamented the fact that they didn't always do the same. Igrayne released her death grip on the comm and lay back in her bed, trying to get comfortable.

She wanted to talk to Evy about the tension between Bao-Dur and Dustil that had arisen ever since the younger Onasi made his appearance on Telos. With Rani's newfound status as Carth's girlfriend, that quickly eliminated the prospective senator as first on her list of candidates for a planned heart-to-heart about Carth' problem child. Igrayne groaned. To top it all off, her headache was rearing up again and she was shivering. She curled up in the blanket and drifted off to sleep...

She awoke to a loud rapping on the door and glanced sleepily at the wall chrono. A quick glance around the room told her Bao wasn't around to answer the door. She slipped out of bed and ran her hands through her wayward locks in an effort to straighten them.

She opened the door and was surprised to find Atton standing there. Her surprise quickly gave way to concern when she saw the sorry state he was in. His hair was mussed and looked in need of a good combing, and he smelled like he'd downed a whole barrel of Tarisian ale. Igrayne pinched her nose in disgust as the scent tickled her nostrils.

"Goodness, Atton! Don't you ever shower?"

Atton answered her with a swift bob of his head.

"Can I...uh...can I come in?"

Igrayne held one arm over the door to prevent him from barging in. Atton rubbed the back of his neck.

"I need a place to stay for the night."

"Trouble with Evy?"

Atton shifted his weight.

"Look, are you going to stand there and interrogate me, or are you going to let me in?"

Igrayne shut the door behind her and stepped outside for a word with the drunk-looking scoundrel. Amazingly, he wasn't slurring his speech just yet.

_I knew there was a reason she wasn't answering her comm_, Igrayne thought, slightly settled now that she knew her friend wasn't in any kind of danger.

"Look, Atton, I can't keep bailing you out every time you have a fight with Evy. Which seems to be growing increasingly frequent of late..."

"Yeah, yeah. Look, I just need a place to stay for the night. I thought you could help a guy out."

"Don't you have Tren for these situations?"

Atton mumbled something before walking off. Igrayne was almost glad to see him leave. She didn't like the scoundrel abusing her friend's feelings so often. And it didn't help much that he wasn't a fan of showers. Still, something inside made her take pity on him.

"Wait, Atton!"

At the sound of his name being called, the scoundrel turned around. Igrayne opened the door and nodded to him.

"Come on."

Atton accepted the invitation and entered the apartment, making himself comfortable on a chair by the window. Igrayne went and stripped the small cot of its sheets, dressing it up with a brand new set. As she worked, she talked.

"You can sleep here. You won't be in the way."

"Hey, thanks." He looked inconsolable.

"I'm just giving you a warning. Bao-Dur won't like that you're staying here. You have your own place, you know."

"Yeah, which she's got first dibs on."

"Right," Igrayne said. Shutting up seemed like the best thing to do right now. If Atton wanted to be sullen and brooding, she wasn't going to stop him.

She climbed into bed and slipped under the covers, ready to fall back asleep. As soon as her head hit the pillow, Atton opened his mouth.

"And she thinks _I'm_ difficult to get along with?" he huffed. "If she only knew..."

Igrayne lifted her head momentarily to gaze at the scoundrel, who had one balled up fist in his lap. He was coming down off the brief buzz from the alcohol, and reality was beginning to hit hard.

"She's just lucky she had me for as long as she did."

Igrayne rolled her eyes and dropped back onto the pillow.

"Yeah, right. Lucky..."

Atton got up and began pacing, and Igrayne knew it had been a mistake to answer the door. She watched his tall, lithe form slink to one corner of the room and back again.

"She ended things," he said without looking at her.

Igrayne was stock still as the words registered in her brain.

"I'm sure you both said some things that you didn't mean, but it doesn't mean things are over."

"No, she ended it. She said we needed a break or some crap like that."

"Oh."

Atton sat down on the chair and continued staring out the huge window panel at the cargo ships and freighters. Igrayne watched him, her guilt completely erasing any trace of her headache.

"Maybe if you just talk to her..."

"Does no good. She won't listen to me until I put a ring on her finger."

"A ring?"

Atton crossed his arms nervously, his posture changing entirely. His fingers steepled in front of his lips.

"Yeah. She wants to be tied down pretty badly."

"Marriage? That's what this is about? Force, Atton, I thought you two resolved this already!"

"Apparently not."

The door slid open and Bao-Dur walked in with some extra parts for the droid he was working on. He gave Atton a questioning glance and then turned to Igrayne for explanation.

"Evy kicked him out."

Bao nodded and exchanged glances with the messy-looking scoundrel, obviously not thrilled with the idea of a new houseguest. As if she needed anymore reasons for him to be angry with her...

"He's staying here just for tonight. I told him he could have the cot."

The Zabrak nodded and returned to the other room to resume working on the droid. Atton almost cracked a smile once he left.

"You know, no matter how bad I feel, he almost always looks worse."

"I'm going to sleep," Igrayne announced peevishly, laying down for some much-needed rest. The last thing she saw before drifting off to sleep was Atton gently palming her nearby commlink, gazing wistfully at it as though Evy was just within arm's reach...

The morning came too quickly for Igrayne. All night she had tossed and turned, fighting a growing sense of dread that rose in her. Bao-Dur had finally decided to question her after being accidentally awoken by her for the third time.

"Something wrong, Igrayne?" he asked, his dark eyes surprisingly clear.

She hesitated in answering a moment, wondering if she should even share with him her concerns. The last time she spoke to him about her worries was after they had seen Carina alive. And Bao never did seem to see it in the same light that she had. Igrayne had even begun to second-guess herself. Ever since the moment she had seen her old friend on Coruscant, her mind had been sent reeling with questions. _What were the Jedi going to do with Carina? Would Carina ever remember her friends? Would she ever remember the horrendous deeds of her past?_ Her body even began to feel the effects of her emotional upheaval.

"I'm just having trouble sleeping, that's all," she finally answered, her voice shaky and almost unrecognizable.

Bao stared at her for a few moments in the dark.

"I must meet with the Jedi that have been assigned to protecting the Restoration Project in the morning," Bao said.

Igrayne knew that Bao was aware of her shaky state; after all, their Force bond was still strong. As she watched him lift himself off the bed, the muscles in his arms and chest momentarily tightening with the effort, she knew he was leaving to sleep on the couch in the other room. She made no move to stop him, knowing that he did need his rest for the next day. The previous evening, Bao had visited with Bastila and Master Kavar. Apparentl, Bastila was pushing for more security support from the Republic, and the Republic was being slow in giving it, even with Admiral Onasi working for their cause.

She sighed as the door silently slid closed after Bao left. Igrayne almost got up to go talk to Bao…almost. But in the end, she figured that if he, too, had felt the dark foreboding through the Force, then he would have told her.

------------------

"Ouch, woman! Can't you at least attempt to be gentle?!" Han roared as Indy changed the dressings that protected the terrible burns on his back.

"Oh, toughen up, scoundrel. It'll only hurt for a moment." Indy smiled despite herself. It had been a long time since they had been able to spend so much continuous time with one another. Not since back in their smuggling days…

After Indy had deftly applied new salve and fresh bandages just like Evy had shown her, she sat back down at the desk, staring at the Sith holocron with her hands cradling her face.

"It's the middle of the night, kid. Get some sleep," Han said, sighing as he shifted on the bed. There weren't many positions that were comfortable for him, so he mostly settled for laying on his stomach.

"Do you feel it?" she whispered, tucking a stray brunette lock from her ponytail behind her ear.

"Why are you whispering?" Han asked, poking fun at her.

She swiveled around in her chair to face him, narrowing her brown eyes at him in a mock expression of annoyance. He merely smiled back at her, the very smile that kicked her heart into high speed. Indy had only made love to one man…Han. She could still remember that day like it was yesterday. The feel of his hands on her body, of his mouth embracing hers…it had been perfect. Since that wonderful time, they had not been together again. She wondered if he ached for it as much as she did.

Suddenly, Indy realized they had been lost in one another's gaze for longer than was appropriate. She blushed furiously, completely forgetting her earlier dread.

"I still got it," he said jokingly, trying to distract her from her embarrassment.

She met his laughing eyes once more before turning back to the frustrating artifact in front of her.

"You better be thankful you're injured," she threatened.

------------------------

Rani had been fast asleep when Carth finally got back home and slid into bed next to her. She awoke as the bed shifted, and she turned toward him.

"Did you find him?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

Carth kissed her gently, but Rani could tell what the answer was by the dejected look in his eyes.

"Dustil will show up again, Carth."

"I know…it's just hard to remember that he's a grown man now. I still feel like I must protect him."

Rani propped herself up with one elbow and used the other hand to touch Carth's face, rubbing the bit of stubble on his cheek. "I guess now he feels like he must protect you."

Carth paused, letting Rani's observation sink in. Yes, Dustil had been trying to protect his father from Jene Cyrus. Carth placed his hand over Rani's. "What would I do without you, gorgeous?"

She let out a tired laugh and snuggled into her favorite sleeping position in Carth's arms.

Rani was tired, but unable to sleep for the moment. She still couldn't decide how she felt about the public apology that was broadcasted that evening. The blonde reporter had appeared, issuing a statement that she had "asked inappropriate questions intent on slandering Ms. Taraster's reputation." The buxom blonde had not looked her normal self on holovision, and Rani felt a slight bit of sympathy for her. Rani had not even guessed that Jene operated the way he did when she first met him, but then again, she had always been naive when it came to people.

"I watched the news. The reporter issued an apology," Rani said. She had not spoken to anyone about it yet, as Igrayne, Bao, Indy, and Han were all at Mical's apartment, as well as Atton, who'd gotten incredibly drunk and crashed there. Evy wasn't even at the apartment, as she said she would be working a lot more and trying to sleep in her office. And of course Mical was a workaholic more than ever, his life forever torn apart by the death of Carina. It pained Rani to see her friends in such states, but she didn't know what to do about it. Even Trentyn had not been at the apartment that night, instead electing to stay with the new recruits who had begun to arrive at the headquarters.

Carth apparently was still awake. "I don't know whether to beat Cyrus or thank him," he said in a hushed tone, as if he were making a terrible confession.

"I feel the same way," Rani admitted. She didn't like the man's methods, not at all, but she couldn't argue with the results…

The couple fell silent once again, lost in their own thoughts.

"Are you going to be able to watch the results of the primaries tomorrow morning with me?" Rani asked, both nervous and excited.

"Sorry, beautiful, I told Bastila I would meet with her and Master Kavar and some of the other Jedi."

"That's okay," Rani said, feeling slightly dismayed, but realizing that Carth was still an important man, an admiral. His first responsibility was to the Republic.

"The people of Telos love you. I know you'll be chosen to go on in the elections," Carth said with total confidence in his girlfriend, kissing her lightly.

"We'll see," Rani said, trying to lessen her apprehension so she could sleep.


	12. The Arrest

It was late morning by the time Rani pulled herself out of bed, and she was dismayed to find that Carth was gone. She rubbed her eyes sleepily as she vaguely remembered Carth kissing her goodbye earlier that morning. It took a few minutes, but eventually she remembered the results of the primary elections were going to be announced soon.

At this realization, she practically jumped out of bed, rushing to the 'fresher to shower and get dressed. Less than a half hour later, she left her empty apartment, determined to find someone to watch the results with her. Rani contemplated visiting Trentyn and Atton at their new headquarters, but she knew the place would be full of recruits, and it just wouldn't be smart for her to put herself in the midst of a bunch of young, possibly rowdy men.

So Rani showed up at Mical's apartment, hoping to find someone home. Igrayne answered the door, looking a bit pale.

"Hey, Igrayne… are you okay?"

Igrayne gave Rani a stiff smile and nodded as Rani entered the apartment.

The senator-hopeful plopped herself down on the couch and turned on the holovision.

"The results of the primaries are being announced soon… I'm so nervous!" Rani exclaimed, pushing back a damp curl that fell into her face.

Igrayne took a seat next to Rani, the feeling of dread still heavy on her heart. She did not want Rani to get too disappointed should she not be chosen to continue on in the elections.

"You know, Rani, if this doesn't work out for you, there are still many ways you can help with the Restoration Effort."

Rani looked sidelong at Igrayne, pulling her eyes away from the news momentarily. "I know. This is all a long shot. Who would have known that someone like me could ever get this chance? Still, it's a dream, but I hope it comes true…"

The hopeful look in Rani's large dark eyes made Igrayne's heart ache for her friend. She, too, hoped that Rani's dream came true. She had found love, and she deserved this, too.

"Where's Bao?" Rani asked, remembering her manners.

"He went to a meeting with the Jedi to talk about the Restoration Effort," Igrayne answered, as she remembered that she had not seen him since he'd left their shared bedroom the previous night.

"Oh, yeah, Carth went to that, too, and I just couldn't bear watching this by myself."

"Where is everyone else?" Igrayne questioned, trying to distract Rani from her nervousness.

"You know…doing their own thing. Indy and Han are here, right?"

"Yeah, but they are still sleeping."

"Still sleeping? But it's nearly noon!" Rani exclaimed.

"I think they were up late last night," Igrayne said, smiling slightly.

"Oh yeah? Do you think they are _together_ again?" Rani asked, a mischievous smile alighting her face.

"I don't know…" Igrayne said with a chuckle. "I don't think Han can do much of anything with those burns, but it has been a while since we've seen Indy so happy."

Rani nodded, remembering how happy the couple had been before the battle.

"Oh, my Force! It's on!" Rani exclaimed, pointing to the holovision.

Igrayne smiled, trying her hardest to ignore the bad feeling she sensed, and she held Rani's hands as the results were announced.

"Rani Taraster, in a surprise comeback, received the most votes, and thus will continue on in the election. Also, the…"

The rest of the reporter's words were lost in the excited shrieks of the two friends. They jumped up and down while they hugged.

It was some time later, after they had calmed down, that Igrayne suddenly stood up.

"Rani, I'm so sorry, but I have to go."

"You have to go? Where?"

"I just…I have a bad feeling, and I just have to see Bao."

Rani looked very concerned but said nothing. Igrayne left the room for a moment, disappearing into the bedroom she shared with Bao, and returning with a blaster in her hand.

"What is that for?" Rani asked, suddenly looking very serious.

"For you," the Jedi said, placing the pistol in Rani's hands. "I feel a disturbance in the Force… I can't explain it, but something bad is going to happen. Please stay here and make sure Indy and Han are safe."

Rani nodded solemnly, trusting her friend.

Igrayne left the apartment, and began walking very quickly toward the Ithorian compound. She felt slightly guilty about leaving Rani, but she knew the woman was not helpless and handled a blaster very well.

---------------

_What does he think—that I'm useless?!_

The young green-eyed Padawan fumed in the room she shared with Kavar. She was more than livid that she was forced to stay in and "meditate on the complexities of the Force" while Master Kavar got to go to the Ithorian compound for some sort of meeting.

She still thought of him as her sometimes unfair master, but there was a part of her that sometimes relived the couple of kisses she'd shared with him. It was the most intimate contact with a person that she could remember, and though she had no memory of ever being kissed before, the natural way she had moved her lips about his convinced her that she had to have had the experience of kissing before.

Carina still had trouble sleeping, as her dreams were filled with visions, though she could not distinguish memories from dreams. She still saw the brilliant blue eyes that evoked such a feeling of love in her that she almost couldn't breathe when she thought about them. She kept seeing images of people she assumed were companion or friends of some sort, though she couldn't tell how much of those were memories since she often dreamed about the Jedi Igrayne, Bao-Dur, Bastila, and also of Rani Taraster, the woman who was running for Senate and had her image on holovision quite often. She even dreamt of the Zabrak whom she had befriended at the Jedi Enclave on Coruscant. She laughed bitterly as she remembered that she even had dreams with Admiral Onasi in them. Sure, he was handsome and she'd seen his face on the holovision a couple times, but that was no reason to dream such life-like dreams so frequently about someone.

"My mind must just be frackin' with me," she whispered to nothing as she sat in a meditative pose on the floor.

------------------

"So there haven't been any more incidents in the compound since that time?" Master Kavar asked in his smooth voice.

"No, the mercenaries have not attacked again, and we have had no other violence here since then." Chodo Habat spoke in the language of the Ithorians, but all the Jedi and even Carth understood.

"You still want greater security?" Bao-Dur asked, shifting in his chair.

"Yes, it is only a matter of time before something worse happens. Czerka will stop at nothing to destroy our cause." The Ithorian was visibly distressed.

"Do we have any hard evidence of this yet?" Bastila questioned.

"No," Chodo replied, his large head shaking with dismay.

"An operative has been sent by the Senate; this information must not leave this room," Carth informed the others.

"About time they did something," Bastila commented.

"Well, it turns out the agent is effective, though his methods are very questionable," Carth continued.

"Are you speaking of the man who was here with you last time?" Chodo Habat asked.

"You brought an operative here?! How did you know he wasn't a spy?" Bastila asked, her blue eyes flashing.

"I didn't. Now that I look back on it, I should have been more cautious, but I saw some papers mentioning that someone would be sent…and we are desperate…" Carth looked more glum than usual.

"This is a difficult situation," Kavar started smartly, "but I think we should stay around for a while until we figure out if this project can be kept safe."

"Something more than just sitting around and watching needs to be done!" Bastila was obviously upset since she spoke to a master in that manner, though she was a bit arrogant.

"I believe, Jedi Knight Bastila, that this has been your assignment all along, and yet you have nothing to show for it. The sites on the surface continue to be sabotaged, and you have no information regarding who is behind this whole operation to sink the project." Kavar's words were a bit degrading, even if his tone was not.

"I know who is behind all of it—Czerka!" The fiery Jedi jumped from her seat and pointed in the direction of the corporation's headquarters.

"We still have no proof, and you know we cannot take action until we have that," Kavar answered without raising his voice.

"Admiral, did you say that the operative found information of some sort?" Bao asked, ever observant.

"He said he did, though I do not know what exactly it is. I do know how he got it, and I refuse to drop to the level of Czerka." Admiral Onasi held integrity as a very important principle to have; it would take a lot for him to abandon it.

"I agree, for now we wait," Kavar said, nodding his head brusquely.

"If we wait, we will be too late!" Bastila fumed.

"What other choice do we have?" Bao asked.

"We can't just walk into Czerka and start arresting everyone," Carth rationalized.

"We should, and let's start with Jana Lorso," Bastila said, a dark gleam in her eyes.

"Jana Lorso is dead," Master Kavar said. "It's all over the news."

----------------

Caine had never been as angry as she was at that exact moment, sitting there, listening to the radio in the cockpit as it buzzed on about recent current events there on Telos.

Jana Lorso was already dead.

She growled in frustration only because she had wanted to bump off Lorso herself, but someone else had beaten her to it.

"I can't remember the last time I have been this angry," Caine said to Cody as he finished dropping the ship into the landing dock at Citadel Station.

"I can," Cody replied, giving in to her rant even though he was preoccupied with not killing them. Yet the bucket of bolts landed soundly, and as the engines turned off, they both let out a small breath of relief. Cody went on: "When you woke up without a gun."

"Oh, yeah," Caine said, instantly frowning at the memory. "That was a nightmare."

Cody looked at her. "Perhaps," he said, smiling. "But it certainly led to something good, didn't it?"

Cody rose from his seat, and Caine looked up into his face. She quickly put her recently mechanized hand in his gaze. "A new hand?"

Cody growled playfully and grabbed her outstretched hand to pull her into his arms.

"Oh, right," Caine said lightheartedly as Cody snuck a kiss to her lips. "Us."

She was right, of course. The past couple of days they spent running around space had certainly led the two of them to a closer, more intimate relationship. Caine was very happy with Cody, she always had been before, and was even more so now. Yet still, a little voice in the back of her mind dared her to be cautious. They lived dangerous lives, and she knew that soon Cody would ask too much of her, that he would try to protect her just a little too much.

A few kisses and a reattached helmet later, they were out the door, headed toward Czerka at least one more time.

They never did get the rest of their money. Lorso might have been dead, but they were still entitled to what was theirs. Caine touched her new blaster rifle for comfort. One way or another, they were going to get their money.

The doors to the Czerka offices blew open, Caine and Cody both ready to do battle for what they wanted...

"By the Force," Cody said, surprisingly calm when viewing the sight that was presented before them.

Mercenaries. Lots and lots of mercenaries.

"Sure is crowded in here," Caine said, and as Cody cast her a glance, she shrugged. "What?"

No sooner had they walked in than they were approached by a tall, snide-looking fellow, who apparently thought himself in charge of this little organization.

_Whatever,_ Caine said to herself, and she knew Cody was rolling his eyes under his helmet. He always knew what she was thinking.

"Caine and Cody, I presume," he sneered, his head turned slightly upright to look down the bridge of his nose at her.

Caine thought about shooting it right off his face.

"Why, yes. That's us," Caine said sweetly, though she was never very good at hiding her annoyance.

"You are late."

Caine growled, unaware of his meaning but very aggravated by him nonetheless.

"Just give us our money," Cody intervened. "That's all we want."

"I'm sure it is," he said, shifting his gaze to the helmeted man. "Unfortunately, you will get nothing. Not until I say so, anyway."

"Excuse me?" Cody replied, no longer hiding his annoyance.

"Listen well, mercenaries. Lorso is out and you will do well to follow your new leader."

"Leader?" Caine let out.

"I'm sick of this guy," Cody said to Caine.

Caine nodded.

"Well that is too bad for you. You cannot kill me," he said, his attitude changing to nervousness under Caine's cold stare. Still, he was desperate to maintain his authority. "Then you will never get your money."

But Caine never was one for authority.

An instant later, the man was dead, and both Caine and Cody's guns were discharged. They glared around at the other paid hires, but none made even the slightest motion against them.

"Some things are far more satisfying than money." Caine smirked.

"Indeed," Cody replied, thoughtful. "Though I highly doubt that smug bastard is leading this organization."

Caine nodded. "Let us go inquire at the main office, shall we?"

"Let's," Cody said, a smile on his voice.

Yet as the main office door slid open, both their smiles faded.

"Sith," Cody said solemnly, his rifle ready to fire at a second's notice.

"We should have known," Caine replied, not even bothering to raise her weapon, knowing that in such a small area, all the Sith would have to do is flip on his lightsaber and she'd be searching for a new mechanized head.

"Caine, Cody. Sit," the mysterious man said, making an odd gesture with his hand, and Caine immediately felt an irrepressible urge to be seated. "I have a proposition that I doubt you will refuse."

Somehow Caine didn't think she'd have a choice.

-------------------

Evy rolled over groggily, slowly opening her tear-stained eyes. She stared at the adjacent wall for several seconds before realizing she was still in her office...and still in her work clothes. After having a good cry over her current situation, she had hardly realized that she had actually fallen asleep.

She reluctantly righted herself, stretching out her tired limbs, and she immediately felt an uncomfortable tightness between her shoulders from her awkward resting place upon the sofa.

_Damn, I need a massage..._ Evy thought drowsily, _Maybe Atton could..._

The nurse stopped herself before she could finish her train of thought, as fresh tears came unbidden to her eyes. She wiped the unwelcome moisture from her face, deciding to busy herself with something, and she briefly checked her commlink. Igrayne had apparently called her shortly after she had arrived at the medical facility. She hadn't even heard her friend's call, so lost was she in her sorrows...but Evy made a mental note to call her later.

Evy next glanced at her wrist chrono, releasing an agitated sigh. It would be several hours until her next shift started and she desperately needed something to distract her from her troubled thoughts of Atton. She was in the process of contemplating what to do next when the door to her office suddenly opened, revealing a thoroughly surprised Mical.

"Evy," he said gently, as his brow knotted in concern. "What are you doing here so early? I didn't expect to see you until your shift started..."

Mical paused for a moment, noticing Evy's groggy appearance, the make-up smeared all over her face, and the state of disarray the sofa was in...and suddenly it all came together.

"My Force, did you _sleep_ here last night?"

"Yeah... I slept here," said Evy. "Couch isn't the most comfortable thing in the galaxy, either. My back feels like a bantha trampled over it."

She gave a faint smile, trying to lighten the situation, but the dark mood surrounding her didn't go unnoticed by Mical. He knew her far too well to let it slip past his defenses. Mical crossed the room, taking a seat upon the sofa next to her before speaking.

"You and Atton had another spat, didn't you?"

It was more of a statement than a question, and Evy involuntarily winced.

"Heh...'spat' is quite an understatement," she stated darkly. "It was more like the brawl of the century."

Mical's expression immediately turned stern as his gaze skimmed over her briefly, looking for any signs of abuse.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Evy shook her head fervently. "No, of course not... Atton would never intentionally hurt me. Well, not physically, at least. Unless my heart counts. But that's beside the point..."

She hesitated in an attempt to prevent more tears from escaping her eyes, and Mical regarded her sympathetically, waiting for her to continue.

"We're...we're on a break now," Evy said quietly, almost too soft for Mical to hear. "Things aren't going too well between us."

"I'm so sorry, Evy, I didn't mean to touch on a sore subject. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Nah, it's okay. I figured you'd find out sooner or later. You were bound to ask, anyway, especially if I seem a little bit…off."

"I suppose that is true. You do look…different."

"Gee, thanks," Evy mumbled, giving a half-hearted chuckle.

"I didn't mean it in an offensive manner," said Mical sincerely. "I merely meant that you look exhausted, drained, and in need of clearing your mind. Why don't you take the day off?"

A slightly panicked expression crossed Evy's features, and the doctor was rather taken aback by her overenthusiastic reply.

"Oh, no! I couldn't! That's very kind of you, Mical, but I really must decline your offer. Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like to start my shift earlier today."

Mical knew exactly what she was doing, falling into her old pattern of blocking herself off again, but he decided not to push the matter further. After all, he was guilty of doing precisely the same thing, but his heart went out to his heartbroken friend. He never liked to see people in pain, emotional or physical, and he supposed it was why he became a doctor in the first place. Mical, of all people, knew what heartache was like, and even though his situation with Carina was beyond the understanding of most people, he knew what Evy must be going through.

"Well, all right then," he said, somewhat reluctantly. "Whatever is best for you. But I don't want my lead nurse overworking herself. And that's an order. If you're tired or feel the need to talk, you know where I am."

"Thank you, Mical. I really appreciate it." The nurse gave a wan smile, finally standing up from her place on the sofa as Mical did the same. "If you don't mind, I'm going to take a quick shower and then get right to work."

"That's fine. The patient in ICU still needs your assistance."

"Oh, you mean Aidan?"

"Aidan?"

"Yes, he finally told me his name... I was able to speak to him briefly yesterday."

"Was he able to tell you anything of consequence?" Mical asked, his fair eyebrows rising in interest.

"Well," started Evy, "he seemed pretty out of it... I gave him a dose of heavy painkiller and he became pretty incoherent. He kept mentioning the Ithorians for some reason. And saying how they 'wouldn't last long,' if I remember correctly."

Mical rubbed his chin in thought, taking in this new information.

"I see. Anything else?"

Evy concentrated, trying to recall her previous conversation with her patient. Her thoughts were jumbled, as they constantly seemed to center on Atton.

"Yeah, um...he said something about how nothing is ever like it seems to be. What do you make of that?"

"I'm not sure..." said Mical, shaking his head and looking somewhat troubled. "He could have heard that information anywhere. Or he might know something about the current situation on the planet. I sense something is...amiss. This whole situation seems rather mysterious..."

"My thoughts exactly. I'll keep a close eye on him. Maybe I can get some more information out of him once he becomes more alert."

"Good...any information that he has regarding Telos could be beneficial to us," Mical said seriously before a voice came over the intercom, letting him know he was needed. The doctor sighed, already looking weary. "I must go now...it seems I'm needed. As usual."

"All right. I'll see you later, Mical," Evy said. "Thanks for being so understanding. And for being here for me."

Mical smiled, touching a hand to her shoulder briefly in a comforting gesture. "It was my pleasure. Take care of yourself, Evy."

"Yep, you too, Mical. You'd better go before they send a search party after you," she joked, causing Mical's grin to widen momentarily. Evy watched him leave, and she was once again left alone with her troubled thoughts. But at least she had her work to distract her from such things.

-----------------

Igrayne set off at a brisk pace. She did not know what had come over her, but every fiber of her being was screaming at her to get to Bao-Dur. She was so distracted by her thoughts that she didn't see the man following her. He waited until there were not any passersby, and then he grabbed her from behind, pulling her into a shadowy corner.

Igrayne got very dizzy from the sudden movement, and would have crumpled to her feet had her captor not been holding her so tightly. His hand was firmly covering her mouth, and his other arm was looped around her waist, pulling her tightly to his muscled body.

"You owe me," he whispered in her ear. As soon as she heard his voice, she knew it was Dustil. At that moment, she felt weak, and her limbs trembled slightly.

"Why are you afraid of me?" he demanded into her ear. "When have I _ever_ hurt you?"

The Jedi could hear the pain in his voice, masked only slightly by his harsh tone. Something had happened to him, and he was coming to her for help. At this realization, Igrayne calmed down and placed her hands gently on the arm he was using to clamp over her mouth. She tugged at it gently, signaling to him she would not scream if he released her. Dustil complied, pulling the hand off of her mouth, but his other arm stayed wrapped firmly around her.

"Dustil, what's wrong?" Her voice held a note of concern.

"I…I really messed up," he replied, leaning his face against her hair.

Igrayne did not move. She knew something strange was going on with Dustil, and a part of her sympathized with him. He had lived through a lot of tragedy, and he was not even twenty years old. He had become a man because he had to in order to survive.

"Are you talking about what happened with Jene Cyrus?" Igrayne questioned. Rani had told her the gist of the story.

"I'll never change…" Dustil said, emotion creeping into his voice.

Igrayne wanted to turn around and face the young man, but he was still holding on to her tightly. She wondered when the last time he had shared any affectionate contact with anyone was.

"You were just trying to protect your father. That is nothing to be ashamed of." Igrayne meant it. Protecting loved ones was honorable, and from what she had heard of Jene Cyrus, she did not approve of his behavior either. The operative sounded like a ticking time bomb.

"I can't face him…and I can't face her…" Dustil continued. Igrayne thought he was crying.

"Carth loves you, and he wants to be a family again," Igrayne said. Her friendship with the admiral had not ceased, and she knew how he felt about his son.

"Every time I look at her, I can see the pain deep in her eyes. She hides it, but I know it's there…" Dustil's words began to become incoherent, and Igrayne concentrated as hard as she could to make out what he was saying. She did not know who he was referring to, but she was not sure if she should ask.

"Who are you talking about?" she asked after he had stopped talking.

"I stood by while Destrik did as he pleased to her. She will never forgive me." His voice was clear now, devoid of emotion. It was as if he believed what he said to be fact.

Dustil's grip loosened on Igrayne, and she took the chance to turn around and meet his eyes.

"Hey! You there!"

Igrayne swiveled around toward the sound of the voice and saw two Telos Security Force agents running toward them with blasters drawn. She lifted her hands up. As she did this, she sensed Dustil take off into a run behind her. One of the agents rushed up to her.

"Ma'am, are you okay?"

"Yes, what is this about?" she asked, watching Dustil run down the corridor.

Her heart almost stopped as the other TSF agent fired his blaster. The bolt hit Dustil directly on the leg, sending the man tumbling violently along the floor. Igrayne screamed and ran to Dustil's side. He was breathing and conscious, but barely. His head had hit the floor, and he was suffering from it.

"Why did you do that?!" she screamed at the TSF agents, holding Dustil's head in her lap.

"Ma'am, you need to step away from this man. He is dangerous. This is Dustil Onasi, prior protégé to Darth Destrik."

"I know who he is!" Igrayne snapped, pushing an unkempt lock of black hair out of his face. "You didn't have to shoot him! He was unarmed!"

The TSF agents looked bewildered at the sight of the Jedi cradling the head of a man who was supposed to be her enemy.

"We have warrant for his arrest," one of the agents began. "He is to be tried for his war crimes by the Republic."

Igrayne tried to push away the hands of the TSF agent trying to snap Force bonds on Dustil's wrists. Tears sprung to her eyes as Dustil looked disoriented, his eyes slightly unfocused. She knew this was a horrible situation, but she didn't know why she was getting so emotional about it. Maybe it was the darkness in the Force; its presence was growing ever stronger.

"Ma'am, he will be okay. We have medics at our headquarters."

Igrayne looked up at the TSF agent who had been speaking to her, the one who had not shot Dustil. The man had a kind face, so she allowed him to help Dustil up. The other TSF agent looked gruff, and he roughly clamped the Force bonds on Dustil's shaky wrists. Then he gave her a sideways smile as he led Dustil away.

"Besides, we don't want him dying on us. The bastard has to pay for what he's done."

She stood there for a little while, watching them lead Dustil away. The young man could not even walk on his own, so the kinder agent was supporting most of his weight.

Once they disappeared from sight, Igrayne knew she had to tell Carth. She reached up to smooth out her hair and felt the wetness from Dustil's tears on her shiny hair.

-------------------------

As soon as he woke up, the hangover was almost unbearable. Captain John Mithic rolled out of his bed in the _Sunbeam_. The past couple of nights he had been drinking himself into oblivion. Mithic had little idea how he had even made it back to his ship.

He had been forced to tell Mical about some of his past, but he still had not told anyone about his "brother"… his evil clone. The secret was eating him up inside. He knew Darth Eklipse was out there, making plans, hoping to gain control of the galaxy. That had always been Eklipse's goal—to have power and control. Money meant little to the Sith clone, and relationships meant even less; what really got Eklipse's blood pumping was acting as the puppeteer. He would slowly sink his fingers into the galaxy, coming up with ways to further his influence, but he would hide behind the veil of his power and control.

"I will have to kill him. Seek him out and kill him." Mithic's words to himself rattled in his head, causing it to ache even more.

Mithic rummaged around in a footlocker, finally pulling out a tonic to help dissipate the effect of having drunk too much. After lying vegetative on his bed for a few minutes, he leapt up, feeling much better…at least physically.

Mithic was strong in the Force, and what the Force was telling him right now, was that trouble was on its way.

His thoughts drifted to his lost companion. Friz had not been seen in a couple days, and it was really starting to worry the captain. He had searched for the little guy, but as of yet, had not seen any signs of him.

John Mithic took a quick shower to get the stench of ale off him. As he showered, he wondered how he could just leave his friends to search out Eklipse. The more he thought about it, the more Mithic realized Eklipse _wanted_ him to leave the others. If Mithic did that, then it would make it much easier for Eklipse to attack them.

Mithic dressed in his Republic officer's uniform, intent on speaking with the admiral. He did not know what was more dangerous—keeping the secret or telling it.

As Mithic departed his ship, he realized there was still one thing he couldn't figure out: what did Eklipse want with the others anyway?

-----------------------

"Jana Lorso is dead? How?" Bastila had sat back down and her hand touched her neck in a gesture of shock.

"Murder. An investigation is underway as we speak," Kavar answered.

The table fell silent, each face appearing like a solemn painting.

"The request for more soldiers on the surface, how does that go?" Bao-Dur asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Carth leaned forward, rubbing his forehead as if he had a migraine. "Senate has yet to approve. I get the impression they do not want to do anything that will alienate Czerka."

Bastila snorted with impatience. "They should be concerned about the future of Telos. Instead they worry about stepping on the fingers of Czerka!"

"Bureaucracy…" Bao started. "This is all a political game. The Senate is worried about upsetting Czerka. Think about it—the corporation is the greatest supplier of arms to the Republic."

The table fell silent again; Carth looked distracted, while Bastila was visibly frustrated.

"I only ask for protection for the project and for my companions," Chodo Habat said.

Suddenly, the door to the small meeting room swished open and Igrayne walked through.

Bao-Dur looked up at her and immediately appeared concerned. Kavar had been the one nearest to her, however, and he got out of his chair to place an arm around the dark-eyed Jedi. She looked like she was about to pass out.

"Igrayne," Kavar said, looking into her pale face, "are you feeling all right?"

Igrayne's dark eyes looked dull as they alighted on his face. "Master Kavar, something…something terrible is going to happen."

The rest at the table stood, too, and Bastila was the first to speak. "She voices what all of us feel but cannot admit."

Kavar led Igrayne to a chair and helped her sit; Carth immediately sat next to her, offering her water.

"I have felt a dark presence in the Force," Bao said, glancing down at Igrayne, but approaching Kavar and Bastila instead.

"I know," Kavar said, rubbing his chin, "but the Force has not revealed to us what the nature of this darkness is. The best we can do is stay vigilant."

Chodo Habat excused himself to check on the security systems of the compound while the three Jedi spoke in hushed tones.

Igrayne sipped the water slowly, trying to figure out the best way to break it to the admiral that his son had been arrested by the TSF.

"Carth, something terrible has already happened," she whispered, pushing her hair out of her face.

"You can tell me, Igrayne," the admiral said, taking one of her cold hands in his warm one.

Igrayne stared into the warm brown eyes of Carth Onasi. He did not deserve all the trouble that had befallen him. He had always been a kind and loyal friend. She took a deep breath, not withdrawing her hand from the admiral's larger one.

"Dustil was arrested by the TSF. The Republic put a warrant out on him and they mean to try him for war crimes. I'm so sorry, Carth."

The admiral's eyebrows knotted together in frustration. This was a terrible situation for him, and he knew it. But he could not abandon his son. Not after everything that had happened, not after they were so close to having a chance at happiness again.

"I'm going to go see him and see what I can do," Carth said, his jaw set in a determined line.

Igrayne wanted to tell Carth about Dustil's injuries, too, but she decided against it. She hoped they'd have the young man patched up some before Carth saw him.

"I'm here if you need me," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"I know, Igrayne, thanks." Carth managed a smile at her before he left the meeting room without any explanation to the others.

Igrayne watched him leave, his powerful form drooped slightly with a burden she wished he did not have to carry. Since they had been reunited on Telos, one bad thing after another had happened; she wondered if it would ever stop.

-------------------------

Trentyn stood in front of all of the new recruits. Many of them were older than him, but he was still a young man. He wanted Atton to help with the presentation, but he had barely managed to get the scoundrel to stop drinking, and it would be nearly impossible to sober him up in time.

The all-purpose room, as he called it, was the largest room in the compound. They had a good amount of space at their new headquarters, but many recruits had arrived the night before, and now the place was barely big enough for all of them. Besides the all-purpose room, which was used for group meetings, eating, recreation, training, etc., there were also dormitories filled with cots and footlockers for all the men; a few 'freshers; a large, newly-built kitchen; and a couple of storage rooms for weapons, clothes, and other supplies.

Tren was extremely pleased with the results of their new headquarters. He had not had much downtime lately, as he had been working hard with his organization, but the recent relationship fiasco between Atton and Evy had not escaped his notice. Tren loved Atton like the brother he never had, and he could see Evy's appeal. She was intelligent, attractive, and had a mind of her own, but Tren hated to see his friend in the state he was in. It was like Atton could do nothing else but try desperately to rid himself of thoughts of the pretty blonde woman.

Tren sighed as he passed out datapads to the recruits. He _never_ wanted to get that weepy and dramatic about a woman. As far as he was concerned, romantic love was a stress and a vulnerability Tren wanted nothing to do with. He preferred lustful nights and whirlwind affairs, and that was it.

Trentyn Taraster began his presentation, throwing rare glances at Atton, who sat slumped in a chair with the most moody expression. Tren was almost always lighthearted and comical, but during his presentation, he found himself being very serious. He explained their mission statement, as well as their protocol on different situations.

"This is not the Sith or the Republic; we are an independent organization. You are not required to be here, and we will not hunt you down or stop you should you wish to leave…"

Tren's mind wandered as he explained the pay scale; it was dreadfully boring to him anyway. He wondered how the rest of his friends were doing, and if Evy was in as bad of a state as Atton was. He had also heard his sister had been chosen in the primaries, and he'd heard of the apology of the network. And Dustil…he had not shown up for the meeting. He even thought of Bastila, of the last time he'd seen her and spoken to her. She was beautiful, but he never wanted to admit she had any deeper effect on him.

"Now, in case of emergency, or should we lose contact with one another, there is a shelter on Alderaan. The exact location is…"

Tren pointed to a place on the holomap of the planet that he displayed and gave the coordinates.

"…Remember the location, because you are never to write it down. This is our safe haven, and I hope we never have to use it, but it is there."

Trentyn wasn't sure why he was telling them this today. He hadn't meant to tell them till the following week's meeting. Maybe it was the feeling of foreboding that lurked around in his heart.

----------------------

Evy leafed through Aidan's chart, looking over the results to various tests, her analysis of the x-ray results, and her general observations of him. Once she had thoroughly studied his chart, she headed to the 'fresher. She rinsed her mouth out, splashed water on her face, and pulled her long blonde waves into a low ponytail.

"I should probably shower…but it'll just have to wait."

Instead, she changed into some spare clothes and did her rounds, trying her hardest to not think about what she had done. The decision had been made, after all, and she wasn't going to change her mind until she saw some real changes.

Finally, she stood outside Aidan's room, and she paused for a moment before entering, gathering her thoughts and her courage. She entered the room with the professional smile of a dedicated nurse adorning her face.

"Good morning, Aidan. How are you feeling, today?"

The man's bruised face contorted with the effort of deep thought. "I feel hella banged up," he replied, his voice sounding very rugged.

"I bet, your injuries are…_extensive_ to say the least. What happened to you?" Evy asked. Her face was a mask of gentle concern, but in reality, she was noting every action of her patient. It was hard to tell what he was thinking by his face. It was colorfully bruised and badly swollen and cut in a few places. She'd have to rely on his words and voice patterns.

"Nothing, I just had a bad fall," the man finally answered, screwing up his face as if he were in pain.

For the moment, her nurturing instincts took over, and she gently took his hand in her own. "How bad is the pain?" she asked, with true concern.

"Pretty damn bad…"

"Okay…well, where is the majority of the pain coming from?" Evy asked, glancing over his body, which was covered by a hospital-issue blanket.

"I don't know—it just hurts!" Aidan answered in an outburst of anger.

Evy let go of his hand and stepped back a bit, realizing he was merely trying to distract her. She didn't doubt that he was in some pain, but he had been receiving a steady dosage of medication through his bloodstream to control the worst of the pain.

"I can bring you something stronger if you would like. I did that last night, but you became quite incoherent." Evy's pretty face was expressionless, but her pale green eyes glinted with intelligence.

"No! I don't want that stuff…did something to my mind."

It sure had.

"Do you have anything that won't do that?" Aidan asked, anxious to get away from Evy's questioning eyes.

"Yes, we do, but it will not be as effective on the pain," she answered professionally.

"That's fine," he said, with a note of finality.

But Evy was not finished.

"Listen Aidan, I know that you are lying." Evy had decided to take the direct route.

"What have I got to lie about?" he asked, trying to sound lighthearted.

"Your injuries, they are way too extensive to be from a simple fall. The angle of the major fracture in your leg—it is highly unlikely that it was an accident. So you tell me, Aidan, why are you lying?"

"You left the Jedi, right? For that ex-Sith boyfriend of yours…I should have known that with your talent, you'd be as smart as you are pretty."

Evy stared at him, trying desperately not to look shocked. He wasn't hiding it anymore. He knew things about her…about Atton…and perhaps even about her friends and the Ithorians.

"Aidan…" she finally said, approaching his bedside again. She didn't touch him, but her eyes were large and pleading. "Whoever did this to you, you don't have to be afraid of them. I can help you."

Aidan let out a harsh laugh, almost sickening to hear because it was obvious that it hurt him to laugh. "You sure are pretty, Evy, but you have to have grown up with your head stuck in the sands of Tatooine if you think _you_ can protect me from them. Hell, you can't even protect yourself or your friends…"

"You haven't even given me the chance to help you! There is always hope…always…" Evy's chin trembled slightly as a dark feeling encroached on her.

"I need some of that painkiller. So if you want to help me, why don't you go get that," Aidan said, shifting slightly in his bed.

It was a terrible feeling, the hopelessness that began to root inside of her. Nothing was going right, and she knew that much worse was on its way. To prevent Aidan from seeing her frustrated tears, she turned and left, walking toward the medical supply room.

When she entered, she slumped down on the only chair in the room, trying in vain to stop the flow of unwanted tears. If only Aidan would tell her what he knew, then maybe she could have a chance at stopping whatever horrible event was on its way.

Her tears began to slow, the salty liquid spent on her cheeks. She just didn't have the energy to cry anymore.

Remembering her duties, she stood up and walked over to the cabinet that contained much of the medicine. Her fingers ran across the small glass bottles, searching for an appropriate painkiller, and then she stopped on a certain chemical. This chemical was the major ingredient in truth serum. Evy had never made it herself, but she had memorized the fairly easy "recipe" for making it from one of her medical books.

It did not take long for Evy to make, and the liquid took on the appropriate amber color it was supposed to be if mixed properly. She poured it into a fresh bottle and labeled it with the name of a common painkiller, and stashed it in her pocket, along with the other painkiller she had selected from the cabinet.

Evy felt in her heart that it was not fair for her to use the serum on Aidan, but she could see little other choice. He knew _something_. And that "something" could be vital to the survival of the Ithorians, herself, and her friends.

Praying for courage and wisdom, Evy headed toward Aidan's room.

-----------------

Carina awoke feeling like a throng of Jawas just finished having a party in her head. Kavar had been gone for hours at the Ithorian compound and she had taken the opportunity to catch up on some much-needed sleep. When she became too restless, however, she got up and donned her robes and then went to find a quiet spot to meditate.

Telos' residential west module was strangely vacant. Upon further inspection, she found its sister building in a similar state. It seemed the whole planet was invested in some part of the Telos Restoration Effort. Ever since the Ithorians and Czerka had started butting heads, Kavar explained, the planet had seen an upsurge in trade and commerce. Which was one reason why she found the normally lively halls' vacancy so curious.

Carina dismissed her apprehensions and crouched into a lotus position under a decorative tree. Her legs firmly tucked beneath her body, she tried to clear her mind of the voices that warred constantly inside of her. She and Kavar had not talked about the kiss they had shared a few nights previously. Whenever she found suitably creative ways to broach the topic, he would drone on about some new development in the never ending litany of the Restoration Effort. Though her master projected an air of calm, she knew it was just another wall he threw up to distance himself from her, his Padawan. Knowing him, there was no reconciling the fact that he had taken full and complete advantage of his position of authority. And so, the best defense he had was to shut her off entirely.

Carina's calm thoughts were clouded by anger as she realized that, even now, her master was manipulating her. He was the one who decided when and what conversations would occur. He tantalized her with snippets of her former life and, at the same time, tamed her curiosity. She would have to get him alone at dinner tonight. She needed answers.

Their dinners together were usually quiet. Kavar encouraged her to use such moments for meditation, as he had when he took in each meal. But he had grown increasingly more aware of how difficult it was for her to focus her thoughts and recite the tenets of the Jedi Code… And it hadn't taken a Jedi to figure that out. Her feelings were raw and extremely easy to sense.

All thoughts of meditation abandoned, Carina stretched and walked back toward the small apartment complex she shared with Kavar. As she was entering the cozy sitting room, an idea came to her. She wondered what Kavar was doing at the Ithorian compound all night. Her curiosity got the better of her, so she threw on her robes and left the apartment complex to go seek out her Jedi master.

Kavar had warned her to stay away from the Ithorian compound, but she didn't always obey his rules. Carina ran her fingers through her strategically mussed hair, giving it more of a windblown look, and pinched her cheeks to make it look as though she had just been exercising. Kavar seemed to always respond more favorably to her when he knew she was training.

She arrived just in time. The doors to the compound burst open and out walked a handsome man in an orange flight jacket, swinging both balled up fists at his sides as he strode purposefully forward. He hadn't appeared to have even acknowledged her. Carina took another few steps forward and waited for the others to exit, which they did. When she saw Kavar emerge with the Jedi Igrayne, a Zabrak—both of whom appeared to be arguing not so discreetly—and another prominent-looking woman, her lips were already formulating what she was going to say. Any greeting she was going to supply him with was abruptly precluded by his curt smug of the head.

"What are you doing here, Padawan? Your orders were to stay in the apartment until I came for you."

She couldn't shake the feeling that the others were gaping at her for some reason.

"We need to talk," was all Carina said.

"Can't it wait? I have an urgent matter of business to attend."

"No, it can't. It's important."

Kavar gripped her arm and pulled her aside to whisper fiercely into her ear.

"It must wait until tonight." He relaxed his voice a little with a low cough. "I am overseeing an investigation for murder within Czerka Corporation. It seems foul play is suspected in the untimely demise of one of our biggest enemies, which could spell doom for the fate of the Restoration Effort if Czerka deigns to conveniently link Chodo Habat and the Ithorians to this—provided they can fabricate the necessary amount of evidence, of course. It shouldn't be too difficult for them to manage. So you see why I am worried. The Force has alerted me to the fact that something is amiss."

"Yes," she said with a nod. "I, too, have felt it."

"Keep your eyes open. The last thing this project needs is another detriment to its progress…or another implication for the Jedi."

"Yes, Master."

She tried to pry her arm free of his grip, but his warm fingers lingered on her heated flesh a little longer than expected. She coquettishly looked up and held his gaze. This close, she could see how clear and blue his eyes were and how they were veined with tiny flecks of iridescent copper and gold. His pupils seemed to expand and contract as they took in her disheveled appearance.

"Tonight then," Carina muttered.

"I don't mean to trivialize your problem, but this _is_ important," he stressed.

"I understand."

She watched him walk away, feeling somewhat relieved that another problem had caught his attention for the moment. She needed time to think about how the conversation would play out. She couldn't allow for any unplanned occurrences—such as the pleasant kiss they had shared the previous night. If she hadn't stopped herself, he might not have.

Carina suddenly realized she was being watched and turned to once again greet the prominent-looking woman, the Jedi Igrayne, and her Zabrak hanger-on, who had a protective arm around her shoulders. The woman whose name she didn't know looked frail and pale at the knowledge of just who stood before her. The Zabrak seemed to be the only thing keeping the other woman from losing her balance at that moment.

_Must've been one hell of a bounty on me…_ Carina thought bitterly.

-----------------

Nothing else was on the admiral's mind but his son. His stride was rapid and determined, and his usual awareness of his surroundings was absent as he wondered how he had not considered the Republic's feelings about Dustil. To Carth, Dustil was his son, first and foremost. Even when he was first in line behind Darth Destrik and a powerful Sith lord himself, Dustil would always be that young, brash, inquisitive boy whom Carth had loved but never had time for. But to the rest of the universe, none of that mattered. The Republic saw Dustil Onasi as a former leader to an evil regime, one who had to answer for the destruction he had helped wrought.

It was at these thoughts Carth found himself wondering how he could have been so stupid to not see the danger that Dustil was in. The rest of the Sith lords who had been involved in the Battle of Dantooine were dead; Dustil was the only remaining one, and thus he would probably have to shoulder the burden of punishment for everyone else.

"Admiral! Admiral Onasi! Carth!"

Carth's attention was pulled to the present, and he turned to see Captain John Mithic walking beside him. When Mithic realized he had finally made his presence known to Carth Onasi, he smiled stiffly, mildly amused by his commanding officer's inattentiveness.

"Excuse me, Admiral," Mithic said, using Carth's title to indicate respect, "I was wondering if you had some time to speak with me."

"Not now, Captain."

"Is something wrong?" Mithic asked, noticing the change in demeanor in Carth.

Carth threw a sidelong glance at John Mithic, remembering the loyalty which the captain always held to. If anyone could understand the difficult situation Carth now found himself in, it would probably be Captain Mithic.

"Dustil's been arrested by the Telos Security Force under a warrant issued by the Republic."

Mithic's resolve to tell Carth the truth about his powers and about his evil clone crumbled at this news. He would never be able to burden the admiral more while Dustil was at the mercy of the Republic. Mithic understood the Republic's view on it. Dustil committed crimes that had to be answered for. The Battle of Dantooine had been terrible, and the Republic would not forget that. However, Mithic also knew Carth and knew the dedication he had to Dustil as his father. And Mithic also knew Dustil was not all bad, not like Eklipse. Dustil had been young, had felt abandoned, and had received a fatherly attention from Destrik that he hadn't with his busy soldier father.

"You're heading over to the TSF headquarters now?" Mithic questioned softly, matching Carth's pace.

"Yes."

"I'll come with you," Mithic said. He had felt helpless and trapped for a while on Citadel Station, but now, here was something he could help with.

"Thank you, soldier," Carth responded, without looking at Mithic. But the captain could tell the appreciation was genuine.

They walked to the shuttle, traveled to the other module, and walked the rest of the way to the TSF station in silence, driven by an urgency neither quite knew the source of. The two Republic officers strode into the headquarters. A couple of TSF agents stood near the door, but they made no move to stop the determined pair. Carth walked straight up to the main desk, heartened by the presence of his soldier.

"Admiral Onasi, we did not expect to see you so soon," a TSF agent said by way of greeting, his kind face showing no signs of mirth.

"I'm here to see my son," Carth responded. His voice had an edge that dared anyone to turn him down.

"In here, _Admiral_, it makes no difference that he's your son. He's just another dirty Sith prisoner, finally getting what's coming to him," another agent said with a sneer of pure ecstasy and malice.

In one lightning swift move, Carth reached over the desk and grabbed the rude TSF agent by his collar, yanking him off of the floor. Mithic had been the only one with the capacity to anticipate Carth's quick move. The captain swiveled around to view the rest of the room, seeing only a handful of agents. They all looked apprehensive, but Mithic could sense that none of them would dare point a blaster at the admiral; he was still a highly important man, after all.

The admiral stared into the face of the man. He had wanted to grab his neck, but had settled for his collar instead. Carth's anger didn't abate, even as the rude TSF agent's sneer fell right from his face, changing to an expression of fright.

"Does the TSF have a practice of hiring assholes now?" Mithic said, hoping to take some of the heat off Carth.

The kinder TSF agent answered, "Please excuse Agent Rainer's inappropriate behavior, Admiral."

"Why should he?" Mithic challenged.

"His two brothers were soldiers of the Republic, like you," the agent answered, meeting Mithic's eyes. "They were both killed in the Battle of Dantooine."

At this news, Carth remembered himself and promptly let go of Agent Rainer.

Mithic was not too surprised at hearing this. "Agent Rainer should not be involved with Dustil Onasi's case then," he instructed.

"That is good advice," the kinder agent said, helping the other one sit. "I promise the both of you he no longer will be… I'm Agent Traft," the agent said, introducing himself once he was out from behind the desk.

Carth nodded in a brusque greeting, slightly irritated with how long it was taking to see his son.

"Agent Rainer and I were the ones who found your son."

"Arrested him, you mean," Carth corrected.

"Yes," Agent Traft said, keeping his cool. "I will take you in to see him."

As they were being led away toward the prison hold, Mithic snuck a glance back at Agent Rainer. The color had returned to the man's cheeks, and although his face held no expression, Mithic could still see the unmistakable look of hatred in the man's eyes.

Once at the heavily fortified door to the prison hold, Carth waited impatiently as the agent deactivated the security to open the door at the computer console. Mithic, however, watched the screen carefully, but from a distance he saw the agent's suspicions would not be aroused.

As soon as the door swished open, the admiral entered the hold. It was not hard to find Dustil, as he was the only one inside a Force cage in the room. Mithic entered, too, hanging back from the father and son, and instead studying the security of the room. It was a high security room, and it must have been the hold specifically for high-profile prisoners. Agent Traft stayed rooted outside the room, standing in front of the security computer console he had just been working on.

The Force cage was not too small, big enough for a full grown man to lie down in comfortably, but Dustil stood in the center of the cage, his head slightly bowed and his black hair hanging limply into his face.

"Son," Carth whispered, standing just a breadth away from the Force barrier.

Dustil jerked his head up as if he had been sleeping while standing, and his eyes met his father's. It tore at Carth's heart to see his son in such a condition. His dark eyes were dull with pain and something more, and Carth could already see a darkening bruise on his forehead.

"You are hurt," Carth said.

"I tried to run, Father," Dustil replied as if he were disgusted with himself.

"What happened?" Carth asked, trying to control a fresh wave of anger.

"I ran…they shot me…and I fell." Dustil's voice seemed far away, hollow.

"Where did you get shot?"

"In the leg. They tried to give me something for the pain, I think, but I won't take anything they give me."

"Dustil…" Carth started, his fury being replaced with sorrow.

"It's all right; it will heal. I can still walk—a bit slowly, but I can," Dustil answered, taking a few halting steps to prove it to Carth.

"I'm…I'm sorry…" Carth said, his words unable to capture the emotions that rained in his heart.

"It's not your fault. I thought I could survive by myself. I thought I didn't need anyone else's help."

Mithic could sense that it had taken a lot for Dustil to admit that, to not lay the blame for something terrible that happened to him on his father, as he was so accustomed to doing.

"You aren't by yourself anymore, Dustil; you don't have to do it alone. I promise you I'll do everything in my power to get you released."

Mithic turned and left the room after Carth's words. The feeling of dread and darkness he had been sensing through the Force began to grow to alarming levels. Mithic lingered in the corridor, staring at the security holo-monitors in front of him. To his surprise, he saw Friz in one of the images.

"Agent Traft, why is that Jawa being held captive?"

The agent immediately knew who Mithic was speaking of; after all, this was the first time they had ever had a Jawa within their walls.

"The barkeep at _The Orbiting Star_ complained that the creature was loitering and stealing food and drink from his customers. The guy looked harmless, but we had no choice but to bring him in."

"He was just lost," Mithic explained.

"You know the Jawa?"

"Yes."

"Is he your pet or something?" Traft asked, bewildered.

"His name is Friz, and he is not a pet!"

"Uh…okay…would you like to sign for his release?"

"Well, I'm not going to leave him in here!" Mithic said irately.

"Okay, but it'll be your responsibility to make sure he's fed and he doesn't wander around the cantina again."

"Yeah, yeah, just go get the Jawa."

-----------------------

Taking a deep breath, Carina headed straight toward the two Jedi.

Igrayne looked even paler the closer Carina got, but she did not hesitate in her steps.

"Jedi Knight Igrayne, it is very nice to see you again," Carina said, wearing her friendliest smile. For some reason, it was very important to her that the Jedi knight liked her.

Igrayne did not answer, but she merely stared at Carina with wide eyes the color of the midnight sky. The Zabrak Jedi tightened his hold on the pale woman.

"How do you like Telos?" he asked, obviously in an effort to take the attention off Igrayne.

"I hate it!" Carina started, jumping at the chance to converse with the two. "Master Kavar rarely lets me do anything! I'm just expected to stay in the apartment and train or meditate. Sometimes I feel like I'm hiding out or something!" After she was finished complaining, she let out a light, girlish laugh.

"It's a shame how dangerous things have been getting here," Igrayne responded, looking mostly recovered from whatever spell she had been under.

"Really? Is it that dangerous?" Carina asked with a bit of excitement in her voice.

Igrayne stared at Carina with a curious expression on her face. The Jedi knight seemed to be studying her, and Carina suddenly wondered if her behavior was un-Jedi-like.

Bao-Dur cleared his throat and smiled faintly at Carina. "There have been attacks on the Ithorians as well as on our friends. It is important to be cautious."

Carina caught the warning in the Zabrak's words, and she also got the feeling he knew more about her than he let on. In fact, even though Igrayne acted a bit strange both times Carina had met her, the Jedi spoke to her with a curious familiarity.

"I will be. Thanks, Bao."

Immediately, Igrayne stiffened, and the Zabrak did, too, just not as noticeably. Carina's mouth fell open as she realized the inappropriate manner in which she had addressed Bao-Dur. He, too, was a Padawan, but he had been in the Order longer than she had, and he actually went on missions. His position relative to hers was a high one, and she should not have spoken to him so informally. Carina had no idea what had come over her to cause her to speak to him like that.

"I am sorry, Jedi Bao-Dur! I…I…" Carina sputtered, feeling very stupid, and hoping that neither would be angry at her. She wasn't even sure why she cared what these two virtual strangers thought of her, as she had often said much worse things to Kavar and cared little. "I'd better go," she said, pushing past them both.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Igrayne looked up at Bao-Dur. "I really need to sit down."

Bao-Dur assisted her to a seat and knelt before her. He touched her arm, trying to gauge how she was feeling. There were even some feelings their force bond was unable to detect.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded and took a deep breath, feeling as though she would be sick. She should have known Carina's memories would not stay put for long. The entire situation was incredibly distressing, and it was taking a toll on Igrayne's nerves.

"Yes. I think I just need rest."

Bao was solemn as he said, "You hardly slept all night."

"My mind was...preoccupied."

He stood and motioned for her to follow him.

"Come. I'll take you back to the apartment."

She nodded and stood up, feeling a little woozy. The walk was a short enough distance for them to have a civilized conversation. Igrayne's thoughts were still swimming with Carina. Bao-Dur had not said a word about it since they left Coruscant, and she was beginning to think he didn't care at all. His focus seemed to be primarily upon the Restoration Effort and the negotiations with the small troupe of Jedi who had been sent to assist in the matter. She noticed he had been spending an increasingly larger amount of time away from the apartment and from her.

"Do you think she recognizes us?" she asked at last.

"She called me by name," Bao said thoughtfully.

"Yes." She paused as they drew near the apartment module. "I'm beginning to think things were better off before. When she was 'dead.'"

Bao-Dur hadn't truly realized how she had been affected by the reappearance of her friend until now. All the color had drained from her face and she appeared to be sweating.

"If Mical ever finds out..."

"It is not our place to tell him."

Igrayne nodded, biting her lip thoughtfully. "You're right."

She opened the door without so much as a goodbye and proceeded to walk up into the apartment and dive under the covers.

-------------------

By the time Rani returned from her latest speaking engagement, her tousled hair unbound from the regal style it had been pinned up in, Carth was already waiting for her. She sidled into the room and laid down a series of posters and banners bearing her name and likeness that Ce-Ira-Mundi and her publicist had fashioned. She brushed an errant strand of hair from her eyes and smiled, one hand on her hip.

"Miss me?" she asked seductively, walking over to where the Republic pilot was sitting by the window. He had his eyes focused upon a spot in the distance and hardly acknowledged her.

"I suppose I should be congratulating you for your performance in the primaries." As he spoke these words, he seemed very distanced.

Rani swung down into his lap and put her arms around his neck, forcing him to look at her.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, averting his eyes. Rani's consternation was replaced by a smug smile.

"Aren't you the least bit interested in what happened today?"

He shrugged.

"Not really, no."

Rani's eyebrow raised a fraction higher in surprise.

"Well, I've got all these nice, new banners, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd come take a look."

Carth's moody features were evident as he turned to face her. Rani gasped slightly because she had never seen him look so hurt before. Her hand immediately settled on his thigh.

"Tell me."

With great difficultly, the pilot spoke.

"Dustil...was apprehended by the TSF under a warrant issued by the Republic. I went to visit him in his cell shortly before you arrived."

"No, Carth!"

He chewed his lip thoughtfully, deciding what to do.

"I'm going to get him released. I promised him I'd do everything in my power to, and I'm not going to let him down this time."

The conviction with which he said this utterly convinced Rani that what he was going to attempt wasn't entirely legal.

"Carth,_no_! Don't do something rash. Just wait a while and see how things pan out. Chances are, if he has a hearing, he could be let go."

Carth snorted.

"With some of his greatest enemies sitting on the jury? I don't think so. The Republic wants him dead...and they'll stop at nothing to see that goal fulfilled."

Rani moved to her knees in front of him, taking his face tenderly in her hands.

"Carth, listen to me. Don't try anything stupid. You...I..._we_ can't afford to do anything that might jeopardize our position."

"You mean _your_ position?" He narrowed his eyes in her direction as he said this.

"No, Carth, that's not what I said."

"Can't you use your prestige for something more than public appearances? Can't you _get him out of there_?"

"You don't understand...it's not that easy."

He gripped her arms roughly.

"So make me understand."

She stood up, backing away a little, rubbing the pressure points on her arms his fingers had sunken into. Her brown eyes were big and watery, and Carth soon realized his mistake.

"I...I'm sorry."

He stood and held her close, his chin kissing the top of her head as he repeatedly uttered apologies and stroked back her unkempt locks. His brown eyes searched her face for forgiveness.

"It's just...this whole thing has me pretty shaken up. If Dustil is tried for war crimes against the Republic, they will execute him. And then I'll have lost a wife _and_ a son..."

He looked out of the window as he said this, and Rani melted into his embrace.

"Carth, I would never let that happen. You know that."

His whiskers tickled her cheek as he smiled.

"Yeah, gorgeous."

She met his lips in a passionate kiss—their first in days. Carth had been so busy with restoration matters, and Rani had been too preoccupied with her campaign's progress to really share any intimate contact with him.

His strong hands gripped her, carrying her in his arms to the bed, where he laid her down softly. Their mouths continued their impassioned movements as Carth moved over her, freeing himself of his flight jacket. She grew emboldened by his advances and helped him undress. Rani paused slightly, her mind shaken by the strength of her need for human contact.

"I have a meeting later with Ce-Ira-Mundi...after dinner."

"It can wait," Carth said, holding her face tenderly in his hands as he kissed her.

Rani giggled slightly.

"If you say so."


	13. Attack on Telos

With her heart pounding furiously due to the nervousness that bubbled inside of her, Evy approached Aidan's door and took a moment to compose herself before entering the room. Her head was spinning and a dizzy feeling suddenly washed over her.

_I shouldn't be doing this_, she thought bitterly to herself. _This could strip me of my license for all eternity, but there's no other way…it has to be done. For me, for my friends, and for Atton._

Her decision was a difficult one, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and although she knew what she was about to do was completely unethical, Evy sensed it would be beneficial in the long run.

Pushing all negative thoughts from her mind, Evy finally mustered up the courage to enter Aidan's room. She held her head high, carrying herself in a professional manner despite her terrifying predicament. She promised herself she wouldn't let Aidan see any sign of weakness. Despite the fact it was only her and Aidan, a sense of wrongness filled her mind, but she forced herself not to dwell upon it.

Evy stepped into the slightly darkened room, closing the door behind her. Aidan's harsh gaze immediately fell upon her.

"Did you get that painkiller?" he asked gruffly, in an emotionless tone of voice.

"Yes," said Evy simply. "I got it. You won't be in pain for much longer…" Her voice came out stronger than expected and she somehow managed to quell the fear that was threatening to overwhelm her. It would be so simple to call for help from Mical or anyone at the medical facility, but somehow she knew this battle was hers and hers alone.

Evy walked over to one of the cabinets in the room, opening a drawer to produce a syringe from within it. She reached into her pocket, allowing her fingers to trace over the two bottles that rested there, and inhaling deeply, she pulled out the truth serum. Beads of sweat began to drip down her pallid brow as she filled the syringe, her hands quivering slightly and uncharacteristically due to her nervousness. Hopefully Aidan wouldn't know the difference between the serum and the painkiller. In many patients, introducing any sort of substance into the bloodstream would create a placebo effect, and Evy silently prayed this would be true for Aidan.

Turning around to face Aidan again, Evy forced a pleasant smile, trying to come off as casual once again.

"This'll only take a minute," she said, approaching Aidan's bed. "You might suffer from a bit of drowsiness, but nothing too severe, I promise."

He watched her intently as she proceeded to swab a spot on the crook of his elbow, holding the syringe ready. Her hands were still shaking slightly and she hoped Aidan wouldn't notice…

"Nervous, Evy? Feelin' a little bit scared?"

At Aidan's comment, Evy's heart seemed to stop beating momentarily.

_Damn it…am I so transparent?_

"Nervous? No, of course not," she said lightly. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you should be…"

The needle has scarcely touched his skin when somebody grabbed Evy roughly from behind, causing her to release a surprised scream as she dropped the syringe. In a matter of seconds, a vibroblade was at her throat and a strong hand was wrapped possessively around her body, pinning her arms to her side. Unable to move due to her captor, Evy opened her mouth to call for help, but the hand around her waist immediately moved to her mouth, covering it momentarily so she was unable to speak. Her mysterious aggressor leaned in close to her face, whispering in her ear menacingly.

"Utter one word and you die."

As her assailant's hand moved back to her waist, Evy considered fighting back, but she decided against it. The man was armed and she wasn't. The sense of wrongness that had previously consumed her mind now made perfect sense. Somebody else had been in the room and she had been focusing too intently on her troubled thoughts to sense their presence. How they had managed to trespass security was beyond her…

Cursing herself in her mind, Evy's terrified gaze immediately flew to Aidan, questioning him with her wide green eyes. He was now sitting up in bed, a twisted grin upon his broken features.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked quietly, trying to keep her voice from trembling. The vibroblade was dangerously close to her neck. She could almost feel the cold metallic blade upon her skin. "What have I ever done to you?"

Aidan laughed a cold, mirthless laugh that sent chills down Evy's spine.

"For an ex-_Jedi_, I thought you'd be better at controlling your emotions."

Evy's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I…I don't understand. I'm not a Je—" 

"Shut up!"

At Aidan's request, her captor's grip suddenly tightened, and Evy winced as the blade inched even closer to her neckline. Tears were threatening to escape from her eyes again, but she forced herself not to cry in front of him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"It doesn't matter if you're not a Jedi," said Aidan coldly. "You still have the Force inside you. I can _feel_ it."

Realization dawned upon Evy like a harsh slap to the face. Aidan was Force-sensitive, and she hadn't even detected it.

"But how?"

She tried to find the words to voice her whirling thoughts, but not before Aidan cut her off.

"How did you not sense I have the Force inside me? Your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend isn't the only one who's good at hiding his true Force potential…and unfortunately for me, that's why I was assigned to this damn mission."

Evy's mind raced furiously for several seconds, trying to solve her current puzzle of a situation before a thought came to her. It all made sense now…

"You're part of the Exchange," she stated, hardly loud enough for Aidan to hear her. "That's why they hurt you, and that's how you know so much about the Ithorians and my friends…"

A grin passed over Aidan's features, and he managed to clap his hands together in a sarcastic manner.

"Bravo, Evy. I knew you had brains in that pretty little head of yours."

The mystery was apparently solved, but the threat upon her life remained.

"I still don't understand…what do you want with me? What could I possibly give you?"

"Oh, not just _you_, Evy," Aidan started, in a sinister tone of voice. "We want all of the Heroes of the Republic dead. Turns out you and your little group of misfit friends are messing with our progress on this planet…and we can't have that, now can we? In a matter of hours, you're all gonna to be dead anyway, so my coworker and I figured we might as well get the job done ourselves. The Exchange'll be more than pleased. This planet's going to hell with everybody with it…and you'll be the first."

Evy's eyes danced with unshed tears, but she held them back. She had to stay strong. If not for herself, then surely for her friends. They had to know what she had discovered.

"You don't have to do this," she said, looking sincerely into Aidan's face. "I can help you, Aidan. What The Exchange did to you was wrong, but I can help you…just give me the chance."

Instead of invoking a sense of sympathy within him as she had intended, Aidan looked even more disgusted with her as he choked on a painful sounding laugh.

"Hah! You're just like the rest of their _scum_. Trying to save the galaxy one person at a time…it makes me sick! There comes a time when you have to realize that some of us don't want to be saved…hell, we _can't_ be saved! Not even by the ideals of some damned Jedi code."

Aidan's vengeful gaze fell upon Evy's pale face for a moment and his features relaxed considerably. He seemed somewhat regretful as he looked her over, and Evy silently hoped he was changing his mind. He shook his head back and forth as he continued speaking.

"It's too bad you're so pretty…such a waste. When I first saw you, I almost regretted going through with this…but business is business. _Kill her_."

Evy's eyes widened in fear as Aidan gestured toward the other thug, signaling for him to end her life. The man positioned his weapon close to her neck, preparing to slit her throat as he leaned in close to the side of his face, whispering seductively.

"Sorry, sweetheart…"

In the split second that the thug delayed, Evy saw her chance at escape. In one swift and rather violent movement, she bashed her head into his, sending him reeling backwards a few steps. Luckily, the vibroblade narrowly missed her neck, leaving her unscathed. Her head ached terribly as she desperately tried to distance herself from the violent man, but a headache was the least of her worries.

Aidan called out a gruff order, helpless to do anything due to his injuries.

"You idiot! Don't let her get away!"

Aidan's assistant recovered quickly, perhaps too quickly for Evy's liking, and she sorely wished she still carried her lightsaber. The man once again lunged at Evy, and in a moment of panic, she pushed over a nearby cabinet in order to keep a safe distance between them. The man cursed loudly, stumbling over the fallen equipment as Aidan continued to bark orders to him, and Evy reached the door. As she frantically palmed the lock, her heart sank as she felt the thug's presence just behind her. She turned around just in time to see him swipe blindly at her with his blade. Normally, her reflexes would have allowed her to dodge his blow with ease, but she was at an incredible disadvantage due to the fact she was awkwardly pinned against the door.

Evy felt a sickening sensation as the blade sliced through the skin near her ribcage, causing her to release a cry of pain as she fell to the ground. She clutched her side as her assailant came to stand near her fallen form, hovering dangerously above her, and Evy feared the worst. Just as he raised his blade to deliver a fatal blow, the door to the room opened swiftly.

"Evy, I was looking for—"

Mical stood in the doorway as words failed him, with a mingled expression of shock and horror upon his handsome features. The doctor seemed stunned for a second as he glanced at the disturbing scene before him, but his instincts immediately kicked into action. The Exchange thug had been distracted by Mical's unexpected entrance, and it gave Evy the precious time she needed to get away. She crawled along the floor, moving quickly as she could in order to get away from the fray that was about to ensue.

Mical hardly had a chance to register what was going on before the thug turned his attention upon him. He swung his vibroblade with deadly intent, but in an amazing display of Jedi reflexes, Mical caught his arm with both of his hands, preventing his stroke from falling. With his free hand, the thug took a swing at Mical's midsection, but he dodged the blow, releasing his grip and ducking under his arm. Evy watched with anxiousness as Mical continued to dodge swing after swing of the man's weapon, and although Mical was strong, she knew he was at a horrible disadvantage.

It was then that she noticed the syringe she had dropped earlier, and she made her way to it as quickly as her injuries allowed. Hoping Aidan wouldn't notice, Evy risked a glance at his bed, and it appeared as though he was faking unconsciousness.

_It figures…the slimy little bastard!_

Evy risked getting close to Mical and the Exchange thug as she waited for the opportune moment before reaching out and jabbing the needle deeply into the man's leg. He howled in pain, temporarily caught off guard, and it gave Mical the opportunity he needed. With surprising strength, Mical swung hard at the man's ribcage, forcing the breath from his lungs. As the thug doubled over in pain, Mical delivered another forceful blow as his fist connected with the side of his face, sending him to the ground.

When he was positive the man was indeed unconscious, Mical immediately came to Evy's aid, kneeling down beside her. She was visibly shaken from her terrifying encounter, as her breath came in ragged gasps for air.

"Oh, Mical, I'm so glad you're here," she managed to say between breaths. "It was so awful… If you weren't here, they would have…would have…"

"Shhhh…save your breath, you're all right," Mical said gently, placing his arms around her shoulders in a comforting gesture. His hands skimmed over her with genuine concern, and the deep gash in her side was strikingly noticeable.

"Oh Force, Evy, you're injured…we need to stop your bleeding."

He lifted her shirt slightly in order to better examine the wound, but Evy's hand grasped his, preventing him from treating her any further. His deep blue eyes locked with hers, and it was then that he noticed the panic within their depths.

"I'll be fine," Evy said firmly, ignoring the nagging pain in her side. "Mical, you need to listen to me. We're in grave danger. All of us are. The Exchange is plotting against us and—"

Her words were cut off when a horrible tremor rocked the foundation of the facility, nearly causing them both to topple over from the incredible force it created. Several pieces of medical equipment came tumbling to the floor, and various shouts and screams were heard from the adjacent rooms. It was already beginning…

Mical's brow furrowed in deep concern as his expression registered understanding. His hands came beneath Evy, preparing to scoop her into his arms.

"We need to get everyone out of here, Evy. Tell me everything you know…"

------------------

Citadel Station was a place of hope. Carina could plainly see it as she peered out the large window of the small apartment. People had always fascinated her with the way they bustled about, each busy with their own individual thoughts. If only they knew just how interconnected they were, the Force binding them all, despite their differences of species and gender. After the horrible destruction of Telos IV, Citadel Station served as a converging point for all who wished to see the planet revived.

The young padawan found much more fulfillment in observing people and seeing the Force manifested in living beings rather than shutting down her other senses and merely focusing on the Force in the form of meditation she had been taught. Maybe it was her lack of memories and her forced alienation from others that made her look to these people. She found this observation of others, her own mode of meditation, one that made her feel much more a part of the universe and much more in tune with the Force.

Shuttles floated by, each window framing a small face, a hopeful face. She wondered if her own eyes held the same glow. Carina had a fire to her, this much was apparent to all who interacted with her, but there were times when the sorrow of having no past made her flame for life flicker and dim.

Carina was alone. That much she was sure of. The bright azure eyes that plagued her dreams were no where to be found, and she wondered if it was not a vision or a memory at all, but merely something her own mind manufactured. No, there was no man with such beautiful eyes who loved her more deeply than life itself. No…

Her decision was made, and as she killed her desire to find the bearer of those eyes, a small tear marked her sorrow. Momentarily angry, she dashed the tear away, not letting it fall far down her smooth cheek. This was her reality, and she would have to make the best of it. She promised herself she would no longer allow the mysteries of her past to drive her future. There was no room in her new life for such weakness.

Then he entered the room. Sometimes he was so insufferably confident and unyielding that Carina wished she could Force choke him a bit. But in the couple of kisses they had shared and the heat of his body against hers when he held her and let her cry, Kavar had shown a warmth that intrigued her.

"You're early," she greeted, not turning her emerald eyes away from the evening scene outside of the window.

"Arguing with Bastila isn't the most pleasant activity in the universe," Kavar commented, shrugging out of his robe.

Carina suppressed a giggle at his frustration. If someone could wear down Master Kavar, it would be the hopelessly stubborn and demanding Bastila.

"Any progress on the murder investigation?" she asked, instead trying to keep the conversation in fairly neutral territory. She was not ready to talk about the kisses just yet.

Kavar shook his head, running a hand through his cropped hair. "No, the scene was completely clean. The murderer knew what he…or she…was doing. The best I can come up with is that the perpetrator is highly skilled."

"Czerka is a powerful corporation. I just don't see how such a thing happened," Carina said, struggling to understand. She had seen on the news that Jana Lorso had been murdered, but there were no suspects as of yet.

"Bastila seems to think it was all some conspiracy and that it's all part of Czerka's plan," Kavar said, eager to see what his bright padawan would think.

"I think she's giving Czerka too much credit," she responded.

"I agree. They may not be the most virtuous of corporations, but they are very surprised by this. Security has been increased there, and they were very particular about escorting me everywhere."

Carina opened her mouth to respond when a low rumbling caught her attention. Immediately, her eyes were drawn to the relatively tall medical facility. She squinted her eyes against the blood-red setting sun. The building seemed to be wobbling. At the base of the building, on the right side, it crumbled.

"We have to do something!" Carina shrieked, the vision wounding her soul. _All those people…all those lives… _She tore her gaze from the teetering building, her emotions getting the best of her.

Kavar reached out to her, but she dodged around his arm, heading toward the door. 

"Wait!" he demanded, getting to her before she could palm the lock. As soon as his gloved hands gripped hers, both of them were thrown off balance.

Another explosion…much nearer this time.

Panic threatened to overwhelm the young woman as she held on to Kavar's form to stay on her feet. Her mind was still reeling from witnessing the medical facility going down.

"The Ithorian Compound…let's go, now!"

Carina was driven to action by Kavar's voice. She did not have to be told to have her lightsaber. She already knew she'd need it.

----------------------------------

"I have to go," Rani whispered, kissing Carth's lips gently.

He pulled her body even closer to him, unwilling to let her go just yet, and groaned, "It's not after dinner yet."

She laughed. "Too bad you already had your dessert."

"I'm a hungry man," he flirted. "I'm up for seconds."

He hoisted her slighter form on top of him, his hands gripping her naked hips. Her dark curls fell all around him, like a protective curtain against the sorrows of the world. Their lips met with as much fervor as the first time they had explored one another's mouths.

Ce-Ira-Mundi was no doubt waiting for her at the meeting. After she got through the primaries, she knew she would only get busier, but that didn't make leaving the love of her life any easier—especially at a time like this, with Dustil locked up. Rani gave herself up completely to Carth's touch. It seemed more important at this moment.

The admiral couldn't help but smile under her rain of kisses. He'd won her for a little while longer. In the midst of their passionate embrace, Rani's body moving over Carth's, his strong arms aiding her movements, he was so absorbed in her that he barely noticed the rumbling. In fact, he would have ignored it if Rani didn't acknowledge it.

"Did you feel that?" she asked, pulling her torso off him slightly, the evening sun coming through the window, bathing her beautiful features in warm light.

Normally he would have replied with something flirtatious to such a question considering their position in bed, but the flicker of fear in her eyes stopped him. He sat up, his hands moving to her shoulders.

"I did."

The commlink crackled momentarily before coming in clear. Captain John Mithic's voice floated up to them from the night table beside the bed. "Admiral Onasi, the medical facility and the Ithorian compound have been bombed."

Carth leaned over and picked up the small unit. Rani was still in his arms, and she stiffened at the news.

"Captain Mithic, I'm here," Carth responded, urging his soldier to go on.

"Admiral, they are short-handed. Most are going to the medical building since the place is a total mess, but we've been asked to help defend the Ithorian compound."

"Defend against whom?" Carth asked, already beginning to dress.

"Mercs…that's all I know," Mithic said.

"I'll meet you there, soldier," Carth said by way of farewell.

A million thoughts ran through the admiral's mind as he finished getting dressed. It didn't take long, and when he was finished, he was surprised to see that Rani, too, had dressed in utility trousers and a simple tunic, her luxurious hair pulled back in a practical bun.

"You are staying here," he ordered, not without tenderness.

"You expect me to stay locked up here while everyone goes to help?" Rani said, grabbing her utility belt.

"I refuse to let you fight," Carth said stubbornly.

In direct disobedience to him, Rani keyed the numbers to the lock of her footlocker, pulling out a blaster and holstering it in her belt.

There was no use in arguing. Carth had been with her long enough to know she had a stubborn streak with some things. Instead, he traversed the room, embracing her.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Rani," he whispered, his lips moving over the taut strands of her hair.

Rani let out a long, shaky sigh, and Carth realized she was crying. He held her tighter.

"Mical and Evy were at the medical facility, and now you're going to fight at the Ithorian compound. The Jedi will go, and I know Tren and Atton will show up with their force. Our friends…" Her words were cut off as she struggled to keep herself from sobbing.

"Listen to me, it will be okay. We've all been through worse, right? I just need to know you are going to be safe." Carth's loving eyes held hers.

Rani nodded, wiping off her face with the sleeve of her tunic. She didn't quite trust herself to talk and not begin crying all anew yet.

"I have to go, gorgeous," he said, knowing he couldn't delay any longer. He headed out into the dark, empty common room and made it to the door. Her hurried footsteps stopped him, and he turned around just in time to receive Rani's meaningful embrace. Her soft lips pulled away from his much too quickly.

"Come back to me, Carth," she whispered.

----------------

Even in her fragmented dreams, Igrayne felt the explosions. She had been running along a road, frantically searching for something or someone, when she'd fallen to the ground, clutching her ears, trying to block out the cries of anguish. Just as she was woken up, she'd realized the cries were her own.

Strong arms held her limp figure as she struggled to sit.

"You're burning up," Bao commented with the slightest hint of concern.

Her large eyes looked like obsidian in the dimming light, and tiny tears clung to her black lashes. Regardless of her current frustration with the Zabrak, she needed comfort. Igrayne leaned against his chest, and Bao allowed her to recover for a few moments, caressing her cheek.

"Igrayne, someone planted a bomb in the medical facility. The whole place is destroyed."

The total lack of emotion in his words brought her to sudden fury. She tore away from him, disgusted, and stared at him with disbelief in her eyes.

"Evy was there…and Mical! What do you mean it's destroyed?!"

Bao was not surprised by the scorching emotions radiating from Igrayne. "The TSF is handling it, but there was another bomb at the Ithorian compound. We have been ordered to go help there."

"I don't care!" she shouted. "Evy could be injured…or worse." A sob choked out of her throat.

"Igrayne!" Bao said, raising his voice.

It certainly caught her attention. Never before had she heard him raise his soft voice with such an edge of harshness.

"You are a Jedi knight, Igrayne, don't forget that. Your loyalty lies with the Jedi Order."

Igrayne narrowed her eyes, her anger simmering to cold resentment at his words.

"I will remember that, Bao-Dur," she responded curtly.

In a flash, she was ready, her lightsaber at her side. She did not even look at the Zabrak as she pushed past him into the main room of the apartment.

Bastila stood waiting for them, her back very straight and stiff. For a moment, she looked like a tragic portrait, her cerulean eyes hauntingly mournful, ringed with shadows, a testament to her state of mind. Igrayne's heart softened for a moment as she realized that the situation was difficult for others, too. Bastila had worked long and hard to convince everyone that something terrible was going to happen, and now it had.

"Let's go," Igrayne commanded, her head throbbing.

Bastila gave a quick nod, Bao meeting them, and then the three Jedi left to do what was asked of them.

----------------

Her world was going in and out of darkness. Only bits and pieces of her surroundings filtered into her brain, some drowned out by her pain. She should have been more panicked, but she had told Mical everything before she succumbed to the attractive numbness of semi-consciousness.

Images and sounds whirled around her like scenes from a nightmare. People were running past them, some so frightened they were screaming. A child with ghastly injuries weakly cried out for help. More blasts sounded from behind them, and the walls began to travel past her faster. Soon, the long windows of the corridors of Citadel Station revealed the large setting sun. It was as red as the previously white doctor's coat Mical had stripped off himself and wrapped around her torso tightly to help stop the bleeding.

The sounds of more explosions accosted her ears, crashing over the more disturbing cries of anguished people. Mical held her tighter and kept up his hurried pace. A strand of her long hair that rested on her chest caught the sunlight, making the golden locks appear scarlet. It took her more than a moment to realize that the crimson sunlight was not the only thing making it look red; her hair was also sprinkled with the blood that seeped from her terrible wound.

Amazingly, she was able to keep her focus for a few moments longer, and she realized her life was draining out of her along with her blood.

"Hold on, Evy," Mical said.

She gazed up at his worried face, her eyes unfocused. Then her world was plunged into cold shadow.

When Evy awoke, she found herself in a meeting room of some kind, her body lying stiffly on a table. She tried to lift her head before two bronzed arms closed over her shoulders, gently forcing her back to a lying position. Evy looked to her benefactor and met eyes with her friend, Rani. Her tunic had a bright red smear on it.

"You're bleeding!" Evy said, ever the nurturer.

"No, I'm not," Rani countered, brushing some of Evy's hair off her face. "That's from you."

Evy glanced down at her torso, the bloody doctor's coat still in place. Her side began to hurt even more now that she'd remembered her injury.

"Mical is looking for medical supplies," Rani said, glancing at the door anxiously.

"Where are we?" Evy asked, the events of the day coming back to her.

"This is a small government building of meeting rooms I have access to. Thank the Force I found Mical carrying you away from the medical facility," Rani responded.

Evy nodded almost imperceptibly, swallowing deeply while trying to control the pain. Her dark-haired friend grasped her hand, hoping to comfort her. Evy glanced at her, her light green eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as she attempted to smile.

There was a light knock at the door, followed by three harder knocks. Rani rushed to the door, placing her palm on the lock to open it. Mical rushed in, his arms full of medical supplies.

"Where'd you get all of that?" Evy asked as Rani heaped the supplies on the table beside her.

Mical lifted a golden brow. "You don't want to know."

Evy fell silent as Rani carefully began unwrapping the blood-soaked coat from around her.

"I'm glad to see you conscious," Mical said, tapping on a syringe.

"I guess bleeding to death isn't the way I'm supposed to go," she responded, trying to force her voice to sound light. It just came out sounding morbid.

Rani let out a sound of disapproval from her throat, pausing to give Evy a harsh look. "You weren't going to die."

"Thanks to Mical's quick thinking," Evy said, sincerity in her voice. If Mical hadn't been there, she would have been killed by Aidan's thug. And if he hadn't run out of the facility with her in his arms, they would have been crushed under the wreckage of the building. And again, if he hadn't been a skilled doctor and secured her wound so tightly, she would have bled to death. In short, she owed her life to Mical three times over.

Mical blushed slightly at her admittance, but he went about sorting through bandages and medications.

Evy tried not to feel too embarrassed as Rani took a pair of shears to her damaged shirt. This was not the time for modesty. Once the material was cut away and peeled back, Evy could see the horror in Rani's wide brown eyes.

"It's bad, isn't it?"

Rani covered Evy's chest with the remains of the shirt, leaving the wounded side open for Mical to look at. The end of the gash closer to her back was so deep that the whites of a couple of ribs showed through the bleeding tissue.

"How much pain are you in, on a scale of one to ten, ten be—"

"Being the worst pain?" Evy finished for Mical, with a cross between a smile and a grimace. Being that he was treating her, he'd momentarily forgotten that she, too, was a healthcare professional. The whole situation was strange for her, being that she'd never been so seriously hurt before. She was so used to being on the other side of the table.

"I'd say about an eight," she said, clenching her teeth.

Mical nodded, choosing a painkiller and injecting it into her. A couple minutes later, she felt the worst of her sharp pain radiating from her side begin to dampen. It was bearable now, and she could think.

As Mical sterilized her wound, Evy turned her light green eyes to Rani's face.

"Did Mical tell you what happened?" she asked.

Rani gave Evy a quizzical look, her hand still gripping Evy's paler one for moral support.

Mical cleared his throat. "I haven't told her yet."

"What?" Rani asked, her eyes growing wider with anticipation.

"Rani, the Exchange is after us. They want all of us dead."

Evy's words hung in the air, as stifling as a thick smoke.

Mical had continued his work, prepping for suturing the wound, while Rani took a step back, a million questions flying through her head. A beep sounded, and Rani's eyes flew to her utility belt, where her commlink was stowed.

"Rani, this is Indy. I tried to reach some of the others, but no one's responding."

Even Mical halted to hear what Indy had to say.

"Indy, this is Rani—what's going on?"

"Are you near a holovision?" Indy's voice sounded through the instrument.

Mical and Evy both looked expectantly at Rani while she ran to a nearby computer conduit. It didn't take her long to figure out the controls, and she activated the meeting room's large holovision projector.

A male reporter on the local station was in mid-sentence: "…It seems that the some of the so-called 'Heroes of the Battle of Dantooine' are behind the treacherous blasts that occurred just minutes ago at the medical facility and the Ithorian Compound…."

Evy's eyes clouded with tears as the images of her and her friends were flashed on the holovision.

"These people are suspected to be armed and dangerous," the reporter said as the images of Indy, Han, Evy, Mical, Trentyn, and Atton were shown. "Also, there are suspected links between these people and a pair of rogue Jedi." Igrayne and Bao's images were then shown. "And finally, these armed and dangerous criminals are also friends and possibly even collaborators with Senator-hopeful Rani Taraster, Admiral Carth Onasi, and Captain John Mithic. If you know the whereabouts of _any_ of them, please call the Telos Security Force. Information will be rewarded."

Rani turned off the projector.

"Now what?" Evy said, focusing on the suturing equipment in Mical's hand.

"I'm with Evy and Mical; we've all just seen it," Rani told Indy through the commlink.

"I say we all get off this planet, and fast!" Indy said.

"What about the others? They've all gone to fight!" Rani said, some panic creeping into her voice.

"Someone needs to warn them! I would, but Han's still not in the best shape, and we're headed to go secure the _Centurion's Blade_ and get her ready for take-off."

"Evy was injured, and Mical's patching her up right now. I'll go warn them and meet you all at the _Blade_," Rani said, her voice seeming stronger now that a decision had been made.

"All right, we're in dock 14 C! We'll wait for you, but make it fast!" Indy finished.

Rani detached the commlink from her belt and placed it on the table beside Evy. "This is for you to get in touch with Indy and Han if you need to."

Mical put down the small instrument in his hand, grabbing Rani's arm to stop her. "You should not be going alone."

"I can handle it, Mical. You take care of Evy and get yourselves to the ship." Rani pulled out her blaster to make sure it was ready for use should she need it. Her hand was shaking, but only slightly.

Evy did not want Rani to go out to the others by herself, but there really wasn't any other choice. The Senator-hopeful was much less likely to be harmed by someone if found than they were, and Evy was in no condition to do anything. In fact, just getting to the docking bay safely and undetected would be quite a feat.

"I'll get to them," Rani said, determination in her eyes as she left Mical to his work.

---------------

She was supposed to feel vindicated.

But now, with the reality of the situation facing her, Bastila wished she had been wrong about everything.

From the front module entrance, the Ithorian compound looked unscathed. Bastila jogged around one of the large trees in the middle of the large hall and stopped in front of the entrance.

"Can you sense anything?" Bastila asked Bao-Dur and Igrayne as the two other Jedi stopped behind her.

Igrayne's eyes fluttered closed as she tried to focus on the Force. Bao-Dur stood stiffly beside her, his eyes trained on her pale face.

"I can't…I can't focus," Igrayne said, a hint of bitterness snaking into her tone.

"I cannot either," Bastila replied, tucking a stray stand of hair behind her ear.

"The destruction…it's just too much," Bao added, his voice almost as soft as a whisper.

There was nothing left to do but enter. The Ithorians, who were their friends and allies and the only hope for the true restoration of Telos, could be in danger. Bastila led, the weight of her lightsaber comforting in her hand. She rounded the corner, heading toward the empty receptionist's desk. The lights flickered irregularly, and her footsteps seemed to echo loudly. She stopped, her back to the wall, preparing to get her first glimpse into the main room of the compound. Using her connection to the Force, she sensed the presence immediately. Her jade lightsaber blade flashed to life, meeting the navy blue one in mid-swing. She had flipped into the main room to meet the attacker and saw the gaping wound in the room, the crimson evening sun shining through the crumbled metal. Her attention immediately leapt back to the man behind the indigo lightsaber, and she was surprised to meet the deep blue eyes.

The contact of the lightsabers sent crackles of energy between them, alighting Trentyn's handsome face. Bastila was frozen to the spot. Her blood was running cold as the thought occurred to her that perhaps she had not been vigilant enough. She never considered _him_ in all of this.

With one disarming smile and a quick flick of his wrist, the blue saber blade vanished.

Bastila took a deep breath, realizing she was being paranoid. Tren was here with Atton and their force of soldiers to help. They were not the enemy.

"I see you boys have things handled," Igrayne commented, seeming impressed. About twelve men milled about the large main room, and she could see more patrolling other parts of the compound.

Finally, after Tren's eyes left hers, Bastila suddenly found the use of her limbs again. Slightly embarrassed, she deactivated her lightsaber.

"Not quite," Tren replied, rubbing his chin and glancing at both women.

"Is there something we should know?" Bao-Dur asked, studying the room, and particularly the site of the detonation of the bomb.

"The Ithorians are no where to be found," Atton answered, his eyes rimmed with red. He looked as if he hadn't slept or eaten properly in days.

"What do you mean?" Bastila asked, finding her voice.

"The Ithorians aren't here. Are you deaf, Jedi?" Tren said, smiling as if it was all a big joke.

"That was not necessary," Bastila replied, looking very indignant.

"Now is not the time to be bickering," Igrayne said almost absentmindedly, as she, too, studied the damage.

A spirited voice sounded outside the entrance. "I want to go in there with you!"

A steady masculine voice answered, "No, padawan, I'm going first."

"It's okay, we're already here, Master Kavar," Bastila called out to him.

A moment later, Kavar and Carina came around the corner, both looking guarded. They relaxed a bit when they saw the inaction in the room.

The lights were blown out in the main room, the only light source being the sun, which was now retreating slowly toward the horizon.

"Come," Kavar ordered Carina before he met Igrayne and Bao at the far end of the room, where the gaping wound in the wall, ceiling, and floor was.

As the Jedi couple informed Master Kavar and his lively padawan about what little they knew, Admiral Onasi, Captain John Mithic, and a small creature entered.

"Was bringing the Jawa a good idea, soldier?" Carth said, eyeing the stunted creature curiously.

"Friz can fight as well as any skilled soldier, sir," Mithic replied.

"If you say so, Captain."

Carth walked in on the conversation just as Master Kavar was making some observations.

"This is a very strange place to place a bomb. If they wanted to destroy the place and the project there would have been far superior sites."

"I agree. It is an odd place," Bao-Dur said, noticing that besides the structural damage to the building and some power loss, only a couple of tables, chairs, and potted plants were demolished.

"It is almost like the bombing was just," Carth started, his words fizzling out as he realized the danger they were all in.

"…Bait," Igrayne finished, pulling out her lightsaber.

It was like they were waiting for a cue, Carth would later think in hindsight. No sooner had they gathered together than the entire complex came alive with voices in a hundred different languages and a hail of footsteps. It was an infernal cacophony of sound punctuated by the soft, artificial sound of blaster bolts and the cold hum of vibroblades. Mercenaries from every conceivable planet and specialty flooded the Ithorian compound, all with one objective in mind: the obliteration of their targets. The ambush was not exactly unexpected, but it was still enough of a shock to catch the group off guard and give the mercs an advantage even past their near limitless numbers.

Fortunately, they didn't pick up on this advantage, and their half-second edge soon wore away as the heroes drew their weapons and opened fire. Blaster bolts erupted from Carth's pistols in a smooth, practiced burst that ripped through two mercenaries and killed them instantly. They were trampled as more and more mercenaries tried to enter the room, guns blazing. There was an electrical crackle as six lightsabers activated, and immediately the ancient weapons proved their value in combat once more, slicing through their foes like a hot cleaver through butter.

John Mithic clicked off the safety of his Death-Hammer and opened fire wherever he could get a shot off, and with every muffled click of the trigger another mercenary fell. Even the Jawa Friz pulled a blaster carbine out of his robes and mowed down the advancing enemy in a hail of bolts, though the kick from the weapon caused almost his entire body to shake. Atton and Trentyn, along with their small unit of fifteen soldiers, laid down volleys of firepower, though it was somewhat constricted by the close quarters.

In fact, the whole group was limited in this regard, and because the mercs were coming from everywhere they couldn't even bottleneck them, so the solution was simple: get out of the compound. They didn't even need to talk to one another; all it took was Carth making a push into the thick of it to get the message across. The group easily punched a whole in their lines and ran as fast as they could toward the exit before the mercenaries could regroup and block them off. With blaster bolts whizzing past their heads, they burst out the doors of the Ithorian complex only to find themselves confronted with the Telos Security Force, who wasted no time in opening fire. The group had no choice but to charge into the fray. To make things even worse, they found the streets to be swarming with security officers and mercenaries hungering for blood, glory, and credits.

Meanwhile, the media was capturing every second on holo-film...

--------------------

Jene nearly choked on his beer. Having nothing better to do, and his newest weapon complete, he had allowed himself time to listen to recent events. He only found that every channel was flooded with coverage of the "barbaric" attack perpetrated by the Heroes of the Republic, though they had stopped calling them that nearly two hours ago, exchanging it for the more inflammatory "terrorists." Were this any other time, Jene might make a remark about their choice of words, but from the start he suspected loads of foul play at work. For one thing, the footage showed Admiral Onasi at the forefront of the battle, and if he had gone ballistic over Jene doing a bit of "Mandalorian diplomacy" there was no way he'd be up to pulling something like this. For another thing—weren't they working with the Ithorians? It was far more likely that it was a set-up, and whoever it was probably had something to do with the Sith.

Jene didn't care what anyone told him; he _knew_ there were Sith still out there, and this reeked of their handiwork. Czerka wouldn't try something like this, it'd cost too much, but the Sith had motive, and this business of killing them _and_ tarnishing their image was pretty much a Sith lord's calling card. He doubted the Sith could do this alone, though. Perhaps the Exchange was working for them? He didn't know or care, but he did know he had to do something. He might hate Onasi's guts after that Sith remark, but he wasn't going to let the rest of them fall just because of that. He'd get them back eventually, but when he did he wasn't going to do the Sith any favors in the process. There were also women among that group, and Jene had made it his policy to protect women if he could. He had his reasons, but he didn't tell anyone why—it was just "something he had to do." Besides, he had some new weapons to field test.

He got up from his small couch and loaded up on equipment. He donned his combat suit and put his holsters on his belt, swinging his two modified rifles over his shoulder. He also took six thermal detonators he had just built off the table and clipped them on his belt loops, putting his war sword in its sheath and then on his belt. Finally, he took a new weapon he called a "chain sword"—basically a vibrosword with its blade replaced by a loop of diamond-hard metal teeth that worked like an extremely powerful chainsaw when activated—and put it across the back of his belt so the handle was just behind his left arm. He walked out of his room to the front desk, left a credit chip on the desk to pay for his room, lit a cigarette, and walked out. As he left, he took his Republic ID out of his pocket, pressed it to the lit butt of the cigarette, and tossed the burning card into the street as he walked toward the remains of the Ithorian compound.

----------------

Blaster fire careened through the air with ease as the group of heroes pressed into the thicket of what could only be described as pure chaos. The sounds of blaster fire mingled with the soft hum of lightsabers. The group was outnumbered and they knew it, yet they continued forward, pushing deeper into the battle.

Carina brought down a mercenary with little difficulty, just bringing her saber up in time to deflect several shots fired off from another mercenary. The scene was unbelievable. Bodies of the dead were lying everywhere, but none of the combatants had time to dwell on what was happening. They all had their goals, and they all hoped to achieve them, which was proving more difficult than anticipated.

It was obvious to Carina, as her mind whirled with thoughts just as fast as her lightsaber was whirling around and through opponents, that the mercenaries and TSF and all those who were challenging them had not anticipated this much of a fight from only a few people. In fact, her assumption was right on track, for they had not expected to come up against such a well-armed and well-trained force of people.

"Stay close!" Kavar ordered her as he continued forward, lightsaber swirling around with ease.

Carina simply nodded, her normally defiant attitude disappearing momentarily, replaced by a different feeling and emotion. Fear. It was new to her, and yet felt all too familiar. It was at moments during extreme stress, when she would feel the loss of her memory the most. This was especially the case when she looked to those who were aiding in the same cause as she and Master Kavar were. The brunette felt as if she could recognize them more so than she should be able to, as if she'd known them before...

"Carina, drop!"

Kavar's voice brought her out of her thoughts quickly. She dropped, just as some larger blaster fire headed her way. Her breathing had quickened considerably, and she was now running almost entirely on adrenaline. Kavar covered her as she hauled herself to her feet, returning to her defensive stance.

Meanwhile, in the very front of the group, Carth was beginning to have quite a difficult time. He continued to fire his blasters faster than he could even think it, keeping most of his concentration on staying out of the way of stray blaster bolts. Igrayne and Bao had moved up with him to cover him, though they were doing the best they could, it was still a struggle.

Igrayne thrust her lightsaber forward into a TSF soldier's abdomen, and he toppled over shortly thereafter. The carnage of the battle would stick with her long after, but for now, all she could do was move forward, slaying those who threatened them. Her loyalty, although it was to the Republic and the people of the Republic, right now was solely to her friends.

Bao-Dur twirled his lightsaber gracefully, deflecting several shots from multiple sides at once, sending them flying back at their attackers, catching them off guard. One by one, the enemies were falling. However, for every mercenary and TSF soldier that fell, about three to four more replaced them. The odds were stacked against them, and the outlook of the battle was grim.

Bastila, who was covering the rear along with Master Kavar and Carina, felt almost lost in the midst of such chaos. The Force had seemed to almost have deserted the place, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate, focus, and keep her own anger in check. All this destruction, this obliteration of a planet, it had begun to become too much for them all. Bastila could still sense the boiling emotions beneath everyone's battle-hardened exterior. One consideration permeated everyone's thoughts...

_Are we going to survive this?_

Unfortunately, Bastila did not think they would, but they would fight until the end, nevertheless. It was their duty to the Republic, even though that same Republic was attempting to kill them now. It was not surprising that the Republic had turned on its own protectors. Most dwelling within the Republic were ignorant and believed anything that was told to them, which was why this was all happening now.

Because of the ignorance of many, they would slay the protectors of all.

Blood now coated the floor, making it slippery and damp. The wall was decorated with black holes caused by blaster fire, and smoke choked off the air supply of the fighters. The potted plants and trees had begun to wither as they were polluted by the smoke and as blaster fire pierced their fragile outsides.

Carth knew it was only a matter of time before they tried a different tactic to take them down. And, he thought, whatever that tactic would be would no doubt kill them all. They were like animals trapped within the confines of a cage who were being hunted. His thoughts briefly went out to Rani, hoping she was safe, but fearing she was not.

"Carth!" Igrayne cried, dodging a stray blaster bolt.

"We have to keep moving forward!" he yelled back, shouldering a mercenary to the floor and then blasting the downed soldier.

"They're moving behind us! We're just going deeper into the trap!" Igrayne said. The mercenaries' movements had been predictable, and they had fallen into said predictable trap.

Carth knew the Jedi was speaking the truth, but he was still frustrated about their situation. His anger was becoming unbearable, and it was clouding his judgment. This fact was not lost on Igrayne.

"What do you propose we do then?" he growled, his voice nearly lost among the sounds of the battle.

Indecision marked Igrayne's features. "I...I'm not sure! But if we keep pressing forward, we'll only come up against a larger force."

Bao-Dur remained silent, keeping all his focus on the battle, trying to tap into the Force although it had seemingly abandoned them all.

"We must move forward!" Carth barked back stubbornly.

Igrayne nodded in silent acquiescence. They were heading toward their doom, and yet, there was a small vestige of hope she felt welling up within her. She wasn't sure, but she thought she could sense help coming.

With a swift uppercut, Carina sliced through her opponent easily. Then she turned, bringing her blade down upon a defenseless opponent. She felt sick to her stomach; the images of the frightened men's eyes were ingrained in her mind. Killing wasn't something she liked doing, but she noticed she was good at it. That was what frightened her the most.

They finally burst through more doors, running as fast as they could—which wasn't very fast since they had to cut down those who opposed them at the same time—and continued to try and make their way to the docking bay. They had to get off this Force-forsaken planet and quickly.

Carina's eyes darted backwards toward the group of enemies who were fast-approaching: reinforcements. Whoever wanted them dead was going through a great deal of trouble to ensure they got the job done. That only piqued Carina's curiosity all the more, but she stifled the thought and brought her mind back to the bloody present.

Her lightsaber was whirl of movement in front of her; it moved here and there without her even thinking about it. She'd trained, certainly, but she'd never been this good before, even when she was fresh. This begged the question of her lost memory again, and if she had indeed been able to wield a lightsaber then.

Suddenly, a brief flash of movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. It was the light glaring off the tip of a muzzle. Her eyes widened as her brain tried to keep up with her thoughts, and her heart pounded in her ears.

Snipers.

"Snipers!" she cried, but her voice was lost among the crackle of blaster fire and hum of lightsabers.

Then another thought came to her: it was aimed at Kavar. And he didn't know it.

Before she knew what she was doing, she shouldered Kavar hard, sending them both to the ground as a shot rang out among them and a sharp blaster bolt whizzed past them. Kavar was in shock, but it wore off quickly and they both stood up again. Kavar prepared to deflect the second sniper bolt. As if on cue, he lifted his saber just in time to meet the weapon's fire, and it careened back toward the firer, killing him instantly.

Carina breathed a sigh of relief, but it was a short-lived victory, for just then another sniper shot rang out. This time it found its mark in Carina's leg, bringing her to the floor. She cried out, but it went unnoticed. She grimaced, keeping her lightsaber up as mercenaries swarmed her, trying to end her life as she knelt on the floor, almost defenseless.

_Kavar!_ her mind cried out subconsciously.

Kavar felt the tremor through the Force even though it was soft and rushed to his apprentice's side, worry creasing his face. He helped support her while trying to keep his weapon up as well, which was no easy feat.

Bastila had noticed the fallen padawan, and she rushed to aid both her and Kavar. She wasn't overly fond of Carina, but since her memory had been erased, she wasn't an entirely bad person. Add to that the fact Kavar seemed to care a lot for the padawan and it became easily evident why Bastila went to help.

The Jedi trio's blades hummed and swung around as they covered each other and continued forward to where the rest were. They were nearing the docking bay, but they had come to a massive problem.

The entrance leading to the docking bay were all but sealed, not by doors, but by bodies. Mercenaries, TSF, and bounty hunters lined the doorway as more came up from behind. There was going to be no way out of this one.

Carina clutched Kavar's arm, the one that was supporting her, instinctively. The pain was considerable, but it was more fear that forced her into that action. The group of "heroes" who had been now labeled "terrorists" were forced to converge, back to back with each other, forming almost a circle. Their eyes flitted around to those who now completely surrounded them.

Hope had been lost.

There would be no escape this time.

-----------------

Mithic's Force senses were very beneficial to his fighting ability. He had seen the situation of the snipers begin, and he quickly ended it with three shots. The battle was quickly getting out of control. Each of the mercenaries and TSF soldiers who went down were replaced by another in less than five seconds. The ground which less than two hours ago was a sanctuary for Ithorians on Telos was stained red with the blood of both friends and foes.

Across the battlefield, Caine was giving orders to the mercenaries under her command. Each of her soldiers was given a specific target to attack. She herself chose to attack the Jedi who were mowing through her allies until she spotted Mithic about thirty meters away, also cutting through her mercenaries like a hot knife through butter. He had removed her hand a few days ago with a lightsaber, yet now he was using a rifle. She had wanted revenge ever since she regained consciousness after the attack, and now was her chance. She aimed her rifle to strike him just between the eyes and moved her finger to the trigger. She pulled slowly, savoring the sweet taste of vengeance right before she fired. But then, just before Mithic would have died, his Jawa companion shot her in the knee and she stumbled forward. The shot struck the side of Mithic's rifle, reducing it to molten slag and leaving him unarmed. He drew a pistol, pressed a button on the side, and a lightsaber popped out of the grip. He used the Force to leap to the front lines, and several awestruck soldiers on both sides were quickly shot after they left their opponents an opening. The white blade of his saber came down on top of a Devaronian mercenary who was approaching one of the soldiers and cleaved him into two identical smoking pieces.

Cody was preoccupied with targeting the heroes themselves while his soldiers dealt with their small force. The easiest targets, he thought, were the ones with blasters. The only ones with blasters were Admiral Onasi, Atton Rand, Captain Mithic, and the little Jawa. They were cutting through his troops with a hail of fire, and that was going to stop. Caine would want to take Mithic, and the admiral was behind cover, so he put Atton in his sights and fired. To his surprise, however, another hero wielding a deep blue lightsaber broke out of his combat and deflected the bolt back toward Cody. It hit his chest armor and he was thrown to the floor. He quickly got up, but the blow had left a large portion of his armor useless and made him vulnerable. He instructed a few surrounding mercenaries to attack the heroes instead of their cannon fodder, and withdrew from the battle rather than risk his life.

"Thanks, Tren, you saved me there," Atton said after watching a dark blue glow wave a red burst of light back toward its source.

"That's two you owe me, Atton," Trentyn replied with a grin on his face, just before turning to bisect an approaching foe. "And that's thirty-seven I have now."

"Damn! I only have thirty-four!"

Trentyn chuckled to himself and turned to go back to fighting alongside the Jedi. As soon as he did, he saw a TSF officer fall backwards in front of him with a glowing hole between his eyes. He turned back to Atton, whose blasters had a bit of smoke rising from the barrels.

"And now _you_ owe _me_ one! Hah!" Atton smugly stated to his friend.

"Yeah, yeah, that just means I only owe you one. I'm going back to fighting like a man instead of on the sidelines like a coward."

"Ouch, that hurt, man," Atton said, blasting a distant mercenary. Trentyn turned and ran to the side of the Jedi and began attacking the advancing line of soldiers again.

The battle raged on around the heroes and their small force, and the tide was turning more and more in the favor of their enemies with each passing moment. Each side had suffered many casualties, but the mercenaries and the TSF had seemingly infinite forces. New soldiers stepped into the fray after any of their comrades went down. The heroes had a small force and a huge cause. This battle could spell the end of all of them and the free reign of terror in the galaxy. And the battle looked hopeless for the heroes.


	14. The Parting of Ways

...Or so it seemed. 

The "heroes"—or "traitors," if you listened to the holovision—were rapidly losing the will to fight. Despite dozens of kills, they were growing exhausted and disheartened. _There's just too many of them._ One by one this thought crept into their minds, sapping their strength and eating away their morale. The drone of battle assaulted their eardrums, plaguing their minds with the demonic drumming of death and death-dealing, blocking out all rational thought, replacing it with the mechanical motions of murder. It was if they were but simple marionettes, the reaper pulling their life-strings and their very thoughts as they danced about the stage that was their battlefield, whirling and twirling toward the death in which all combats eventually end.

And so it continued until they heard two sharp sounds that brought a brutal punctuation to the battle. Within a second, all had registered those sounds as those of explosions, but it was another moment before they came to the realization of what they meant. Dust and debris blocked out their sight and temporarily cloaked the horrible work of the thermal detonators, their victims now very, very dead. It did not take long for the dust to clear, and what was behind the smokescreen was an equal surprise to both sides. Standing there, as erect as a statue, was Jene Cyrus, his mismatched eyes casting a glare upon the TSF and the mercenaries as he held his Annihilator at the ready. Were they not so ignorant of what they were seeing, they would have run right there, but no one was alive to tell them his glare was reserved only for those he was about to kill. A lit cigarette was cocked to the side, clenched between teeth in a mouth that was halfway between a smile and a frown. He appeared to mutter something to himself, words he would later recall being "Die, Sith," and then he pumped the handle of the strange weapon with a mechanical click.

It would be the last sound many of them would ever hear.

He aimed the weapon with practiced efficiency and pulled the trigger, creating a sight only a very few would live to tell about. There was a low hum, barely audible in the confusion, which preceded the weapon's discharge by a mere second. This was not the weapon charging so much as it was its shield. The antimatter was so forceful upon contact that it was very likely it would destroy the weapon if uncontained. Jene had installed a small electromagnetic shield on the end of the barrel that was just powerful enough to keep the weapon from backfiring for as long as the antimatter was close to the weapon, which only lasted a tiny fraction of a second, in order to protect himself from it.

The blast began as a beam of royal purple light, but it did not stay that way for long. When the antimatter made contact with the air, it began to explode at an unbelievable rate, reaching a temperature far higher than that of a thermal detonator, and extended outward in a burst of unnatural flame. It was not red, but primarily ultramarine blue, with flecks of turquoise and shocks of deep purple running down its length as the full fury of his weapon was unleashed. As each of its victims was touched by the weapon, they were atomized by the extreme heat. But those were the lucky ones. At the core of the torrent of blue fire was still a beam of antimatter, shielded from matter on all sides by the flame, and when an unfortunate subject was touched by the antimatter they were completely annihilated, their molecules exploding into yet more blue fire, like a giant firecracker.

The Annihilator's beam went for a full eighty feet, and at the very tip of the cone of flame it had gotten to almost thirty feet. In one single blast, Jene had killed forty-five mercenaries and twenty-five TSF officers, while the flames had injured many others as the heat caused energy cells to burst open and explode, removing the hands of their luckless wielders. Those still alive were paralyzed with shock and fear at the awesome might of the weapon that had cut a swathe through their lines with a single shot. It was as unbelievable as it was terrifying to behold. Surely there was no other weapon yet devised that held such power. What was even more shocking was the calculating coldness with which its power was unleashed. Jene had not hesitated, nor had he shown any visible emotion even as he witnessed the event he had just caused. Even a sadistic laugh would have been comforting compared to his silence.

The shock, however, lasted only moments, and soon the masses of mercenaries and officers began to close in on the lone warrior, ignoring their primary targets in favor of this one. Jene responded only by pumping the weapon again, ejecting the spent cartridge, which he immediately caught with his dominant left hand and shoved into a waiting space on his belt. Instantly, fear gripped his opponents again, but not for long. They soon had their weapons aimed at him. He swung the Annihilator over his shoulder, quickly exchanging it for his modified sun rifle, and wasted no time in loosing a hail of fire on the horde of enemies.

The sun rifle was also markedly different from other weapons, and while not as impossibly powerful as its more advanced counterpart, it was terribly effective in its own right. The rifle did not fire bolts so much as it did bursts of raw energy which glowed orange, yellow, and green, with a speed slightly faster than a repeating blaster. The individual colors were lost in the extreme brightness of the blasts themselves, and in fact they did look much like miniature suns. On contact with an enemy, they proved they were about as powerful as small suns, too, creating an extreme, concentrated heat that cleaved through skin, melted away bone, and ruptured vital organs. What was worse, the blast would deform as it hit, spreading over the victim's body to greatly increase the size and severity of the wound, which meant that in almost all cases a single shot was fatal.

His gun blazing, he waded into the bloodbath, and everywhere he turned more and more bodies fell. Those who managed to get a shot off found their bolts bouncing harmlessly off his personal energy shield. He steadily began eliminating the near-limitless numbers of enemies, but even he knew this was a battle they could not win. If they were going to leave here with their lives, now was the time to go.

Slowly but surely, Jene let go of his emotions, letting his anger go in controlled bursts, maximizing the use of his body's own adrenaline to increase his own abilities as much as possible without resorting to stims, which he had long since abandoned as a legitimate form of combat. He was not above using implants, but he considered adrenal stims to be a "quick-fix" requiring no talent or ability to use and forcing a reliance on drugs to do battle with. Instead, he used control over his own body to achieve the same effect. He fought his way to the heroes like an unstoppable juggernaut, at least for the time being. Even Jene was only human, and he did not have an unlimited supply of ammo, no matter how efficient his sun rifle was. He needed to get them out of here, and fast. And this was why he approached Admiral Onasi a second time.

The admiral was more than slightly worried by Jene's reappearance. He seemed to be on their side, but he had no idea if he was really helping them or just warming up before taking some revenge on them or something. He had watched as the specialist atomized scores of mercenaries and TSF officers seemingly without a care, and if he could do that to a total stranger, Carth could only imagine his fury being unleashed on an enemy.

If Carth had been expecting to be shot down by Jene, he would be disappointed. The mercenary approached him and the rest of the heroes, his custom rifle—which was by then close to overheating—exchanged for obviously modified blaster pistols, as evidenced by the overcharged, partially-destabilized bolts they fired. He still managed to break away from combat for a brief moment to tell the admiral sternly in a stone-cold voice, "You have to leave now."

Carth didn't know if he was trying to object or express confusion, but whatever it was it never left his mouth, as the mercenary again cut him off even as he shot another enemy through the head.

"I'm trying to save you, you arrogant bastard, now go!"

As much as the admiral would have liked to punch Jene in the face for his remark, he didn't need to be told again to clear out. Now was their chance, while the enemy had their heads down, and they probably wouldn't get another one. The order went out, and the heroes made a push toward the spaceport, easily dispatching what little resistance was left after Jene's onslaught and making a run for their ship, with Jene bringing up the rear. As soon as they made it past one of the large blast doors, Jene stopped suddenly in the doorway, causing a few of the group to turn around, but they were met with his barely contained rage.

"What are you looking at? I said _go_!"

Angered that they didn't immediately get the message, he pointed one of his blasters at them and fired a warning shot at their feet. Realizing they couldn't negotiate with him, they continued their flight through Citadel Station.

As for Jene, he turned back around and emptied what remained of his Hellfire cartridges into the mass of bodies, then holstered them and unsheathed his melee weapons. His war sword shimmered in the artificial light of the station; the black paint on his new chain sword was as glossy as obsidian. He flicked on the power switch in the sword's grip, and it instantly came alive with an infernal buzzing noise, like a barber's razor but ten times louder. The teeth on the blade's edge began to revolve on its chain at an incredible speed, and it was only because of the stabilizers in the blade that his whole hand didn't vibrate from it.

For once, Jene smiled. It was not a smile of happiness but of teeth-clenching rage and almost a sort of sadness. He was never afraid to resort to violence, but combat always held uncomfortable memories for him, memories of all he had lost and all he had caused others to lose. In murder, he sought to repent for the murder of his loved ones, but none knew this but he. His wicked smile only intensified at this thought, and he whispered to himself, "For you, Jana."

Just afterwards, he screamed at them with the combined rage of thirteen years of sorrow and anguish. If he could not make the Sith pay, their proxies would have to do.

"All right, motherfuckers, who wants to die?!"

With these final words, Jene charged into the fray, his swords cleaving through bodies as if they were paper. The war sword sliced through them with ease, while the chain sword hacked and sawed its way through flesh and bone, splattering blood everywhere. When he was done with these men, he would leave before reinforcements could arrive, but before that he would paint the walls of this forsaken station red.

------------------

Her teeth gritting harshly was the only other noise Rani could hear besides the rumbling of explosions. The sounds were muffled, and as she pressed her back against the wall, her breath coming in shallow pants from her chest, Rani struggled to hold on to her fleeting courage. The going had been maddeningly slower than she thought it would be. Most citizens had shut themselves into their apartments, eyes glued to their holovision, hoping they were watching the destruction from a safe distance. This meant that most of those whom Rani found still milling about the station were there for a reason: to find her and her friends.

So far, she had been relatively lucky. The former senator-hopeful had put most of her energy into stealth, and it had paid off. Not that there had not been close calls, but as of yet no one had seen her, or at the very least, no one had recognized her.

The sound of a clear but concerned male voice reminded Rani she had to keep her wits about her if she was to have any chance at reaching Carth, Tren, and the rest of their friends. She took a moment to wipe her slick palm on her tunic before gripping her blaster. Killing someone was not something Rani knew she could do, but she had her weapon out anyway. Swiveling around and pressing her chest against the wall instead, she followed her extended blaster arm, peeking around the edge of the corridor wall to survey the large room.

It was empty and looked almost untouched except for a couple of trampled plants. The room housed the entrances to several shops, including a droid store and a popular weapons dealer as well as a few small clothing and gift shops. All the entrances were closed now, the sleek metal doors protecting the goods within. Her dark serious eyes danced around the room, looking for danger. Across the room, the corridor continued, and that was her goal. Further down the large passageway was the module the Ithorian compound was in, and Rani had no idea what she would find there. But she didn't want to think about that now.

The stoic male voice continued along with the accompanying holo-image urging all citizens to stay in their homes, since the "traitors" were still free and at large. This gave Rani a little comfort, as she hoped that at least this bit of information from the media was true. She started to step into the room, but she noticed the singular slim figure standing by the holo-news conduit. Quickly, she jerked back behind the wall, her heart beating like a drum, steady but hard.

Rani desperately tried to calm herself, evoking images of her loved ones to try and give her strength. She pictured her handsome pilot, the evening sun alighting his hair in a coppery fire. Then she saw her brother, a mischievous smile on his face as he playfully chased after her. Rani tried to hold onto these memories, but they fled from her mind as fear wrapped its suffocating fingers around her.

The news conduit had silenced, and Rani could have sworn she heard the gentle scrape of a boot against the floor, but she was frozen in place, her ears straining to warn her of the person she'd seen in the room. It was times like these that Rani wished she had the gift her brother had. Being able to sense and manipulate the Force would have been really handy at this moment.

Inexplicably, as she waited there, her blaster feeling heavy in her slender hand, she thought of Carina. It had been a while since Rani had last reminisced about her deceased friend. Maybe it was the stress of the situation that did it, but Rani came to the realization her friend had perhaps been the strongest woman she had ever had the privilege of knowing. When the time had come, Carina had made the right choice, albeit the difficult one.

Although her mind wandered, her eyes were glued in front of her. She saw the grey blur of a TSF uniform, as the man jumped out in front of her, pointing a blaster right in her face. Rani responded by mimicking his behavior, her hand still as she aimed her own weapon at the man's head.

"Freeze! Stay where you are!"

"Drop your weapon!" Rani responded.

The man stared at her, his pupils widening as his eyes adjusted to the relative shade of the hallway. That was when he recognized her.

"Are you alone?" he asked, his voice dropped to a conversational tone, but his blaster still aimed.

"Are you?" Rani snapped back.

"Miss Taraster, I recommend that you cooperate."

"And I recommend you get that damn blaster out of my face." Her words were harsher than her tone as she struggled not to let her fear betray her.

Surprisingly, the agent sighed, slowly lowering his weapon to his side. Rani, fearing a trick, kept her own weapon trained on him as she studied his face. She was struck by how young he was, possibly younger than herself.

"Now leave."

"What?" The agent asked, confused that the woman was giving him orders instead of the other way around.

"I said leave. Beat it. Go home."

"I can't do that. I'm on duty, and this is my patrol area. I have specific instructions to apprehend…" His words faltered as he realized Rani knew this.

"You are going to let me pass."

"I'm sorry, I can't do that," he answered. The young TSF agent had hoped Rani would win the election, he even had a bit of a crush of the beautiful public figure, but now she was a "person of interest" and he had to take her in.

Many running footsteps sounded, coming from the corridor that led to the Ithorian Compound.

_This nerfherder called backup!_ Rani cursed in her mind.

Rani's gaze flew towards the corridor she had wished to travel through, waiting for the appearance of those who ran towards them. The TSF agent, momentarily forgetting Rani, turned to look too.

Admiral Onasi was the first to round the corner, his brows set in a determined line. The others followed: Igrayne, Bao-Dur, Atton, Trentyn, John, and a Jawa. Atton fired a couple of shots at the agent as the man returned fire. Tren's deep blue saber leapt out of its blade in time to block the blaster bolts. This was going to get ugly, and fast, and her friends already looked battle-worn. Barely thinking, Rani aimed her blaster right at the man's arm, firing at close range. He let out an animal-like howl as he dropped his blaster and fell to the ground, cradling his injured arm.

If her friends were surprised, they didn't show it, as they kept up their pace to meet Rani.

"Good shot, Sis," Tren said as the hum of his lightsaber disappeared along with the blade.

"What should we do with him?" Atton said, as he kicked the man's fallen blaster across the room.

"Just take his weapons and leave him," Igrayne said. Bao-Dur looked at her with a furrowed brow.

"What? He won't die from his wound, and we don't have time for anything else," the Jedi woman said, defending her council.

"Are you hurt?" Carth asked Rani. She noticed his eyes seemed a bit wild as he quickly surveyed her condition.

"I'm fine. Listen to me, we're all in danger! They're blaming this whole thing on us!" Rani leaned heavily against Carth, and his arm protectively steadied her.

"That explains the TSF attacking us," Mithic added as he tried to ignore Friz's twittering.

"I don't know how much time that man bought for us," Bao said, "but if we want to get off this planet safely, we have to do it now."

"Let's go then," Carth said. "It's obvious they don't just want to speak to us."

"Wait!" Tren called out. He had just finished stripping the TSF agent of his other weapons and communications units, rendering them useless with his saber. Then he reared back and punched the guy right in the face, knocking him out cold. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go!"

---------------------

"What do you mean the alternator's shot?" Indy fumed as she tapped on a small, non-responsive screen in the cockpit.

"It's not working," Han responded, leaning against the door frame.

"Well, go fix it!" Indy demanded, yanking on her fedora in frustration.

"I tried it, kid, it ain't gonna work."

"Do I have to do everything myself?!" Indy yelled as she shouldered past Han, pushing him roughly even harder against the door frame.

"Damn it, Indy!" the scoundrel cursed as his face contorted in a mask of pain.

It took a moment for her to remember his back was still not completely healed from the serious burns. She felt apologetic, but before long it passed and she was back to feeling frustrated. 

Han eased himself into the pilot's chair in the cockpit, studying the results of an inquiry he'd made the computer do to find out what was wrong with the ship. According to the data, many things were wrong with the _Centurion's Blade_, and Han wondered if they'd even be able to get off the planet in the ship. He heard a loud string of curses and a clanging sound that was undoubtedly Indy kicking something violently.

She was back in the cockpit, breathing heavily. "Try it now."

Han raised one of his eyebrows and gave the woman he loved a crooked smile before punching in the startup sequence. The ship's engine's sputtered a few times before calming down to a steady purr.

"Yes!" Indy celebrated, kissing the wall of the small hold briefly. "I knew she would run!"

Han stood up from his seat, ignoring the slight burning sensation on his back as he wished he could get some of that affection from Indy that the wall was currently getting. Before he could demand some attention, the commlink at Indy's hip beeped.

"Care to help us out? I'm not too heavy, but Mical's been dragging me a ways," Evy's voice sounded from the small unit.

They both looked out of the viewport, spotting Mical supporting Evy at the entrance to the docking bay. Indy didn't need her sharp eyesight to notice the bloodstain down Evy's side. It was a lot of blood, and Indy hoped it wasn't all hers.

"You go help 'em out. I'll prep us for takeoff. Hopefully the others will show up soon."

Han nodded before dashing out to meet Mical and Evy.

---------------------

"Admiral, Captain, you two go ahead with Rani; the rest of us will cover the rear. There's probably going to be more small patrols like him," Igrayne said, pointing to the unconscious man.

"Good idea, Igrayne," Carth said, nodding. He jogged forward, Rani's hand firmly in his own. Mithic followed, with Friz right behind him.

"Be careful!" Rani called out over her shoulder, locking eyes with her brother before disappearing around the corner.

Trentyn had the overwhelming desire to follow in order to protect his sister, but he firmly reminded himself that Rani had someone else to protect her now. As much as he and Carth had their differences, deep down, Tren was happy with his older sister's choice of mate, and he had full confidence the admiral would take good care of her.

"I should have asked her about Evy," Atton said softly, only loud enough for Tren to hear.

"Why didn't you?" Tren asked, suddenly concerned for her.

Tren stared questioningly at his friend, and for the first time in a long time, he saw raw dread in Atton's eyes.

"Dude, I bet she's fine. She's probably waiting in the docking bay for us to show up right now." Trentyn tried to focus himself as he reassured Atton of this. As a Sith, Tren had been intensely trained, but most of his skill was in battle, and he usually only used the Force to aid his fighting. The more gentle uses of the Force were mostly lost on him.

"Someone approaches," Igrayne said, silencing the two men.

Bao's hand strayed to his lightsaber. Luckily, Bastila, Master Kavar, and his padawan were the ones who were coming down the corridor, and they had not been followed. They met the other group, and they were obviously still feeling the effects of battle. Some of Bastila's dark silky locks slipped out of her braids, clinging to the moisture on her face and neck.

"I presume you are leaving with your friends," Kavar spoke, his voice breathy with exertion.

"I intend to accompany them and protect them as well as I can until we figure out what is going on here, Master," Igrayne explained.

"We should contact the Council," Kavar thought out loud.

"There's no time for that. Act now, talk later," Carina said, finding herself concerned for these virtual strangers.

As soon as she spoke, she got the feeling she had made a horrendous mistake. The two Jedi, Igrayne and Bao-Dur, had the same slightly curious look on their faces as they always did around her, but it was the harsh look on her master's face and the utterly shocked expressions the two tall dark-haired men wore that had worried her.

"As if the day could get any weirder," Trentyn commented, his angular, deep blue eyes taking in Carina's very alive appearance.

"Tell me that's not who I think it is," Atton said, looking to Igrayne and Bao.

"Holy Force, you guys knew about this, didn't you?" Tren asked, noticing the lack of surprise on their faces. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"The Jedi have their reasons," Bastila said vaguely.

"There is no time to discuss this now," Kavar cut in, "and it is not anyone else's concern anyway."

"You've got to be frackin' kidding me. After everything we went through, you think we don't deserve to know she's alive?!" Atton said through clenched teeth. He'd never liked Jedi.

These people knew her, and by the tone in the man's voice, Carina could tell that whatever she'd done, it had not been good.

"Did I know you?" Carina asked, unabashedly stepping toward the scoundrel.

"What the hell do you mean?" Atton said, his eyebrows knotted together in confusion.

"She has no memory," Igrayne said. Her voice had been soft, almost sad, but everyone heard her.

Kavar stepped swiftly in between the two, redirecting the conversation. "We're going to Coruscant to meet with the Council; you have my permission to accompany your friends."

"Thanks so much for your help, _Master_," Tren said sarcastically.

Kavar ignored the younger man, instead taking off toward the docking bays. The rest followed, and they made it to the bays with little incident.

"Where will you flee?" Bastila asked, her question directed at Igrayne, but her eyes on Trentyn.

"I will contact the temple when I can, but for now, I don't wish to reveal anything more," Igrayne answered, her gaze touching on Carina before darting back to Kavar and Bastila.

"I understand. Be careful," Master Kavar said, tipping his head slightly.

"Yes…be careful," Bastila agreed, her eyes again drawn to Trentyn.

The four friends stood in the hall, watching the other Jedi disappear behind a door to a docking bay.

--------------

When Atton, Trentyn, Igrayne, and Bao-Dur finally found dock 14 C, the scene that greeted them was akin to madness.

Indy was making the most noise with the terrible creak of metal pulling away from metal as she yanked a panel off the outside of her ship. Han was shouting over the ruckus, gesturing wildly with his hands, while Indy largely ignored him. 

Evy sat and reclined on the ramp up to the inside of the ship while Mical rustled through what looked to be a small bag of medications.

John Mithic had a blowtorch out, and he seemed to be reattaching a different panel that had been recently removed by Indy while Friz stood nearby, chatting constantly in his native tongue.

And then, just adding to the mayhem, the admiral and his girlfriend argued loudly, Rani poking Carth's brawny chest.

"I'm going with you!" she yelled, one hand on her hip.

"No, you aren't, woman!" Carth protested, glaring down at her.

"There is no way in hell I'm letting you go by yourself!" Rani asserted stubbornly.

"I'll go with you, Admiral," Mithic chimed in after he'd finished his task, anxious for the argument to end.

"You have to help fix this trash heap of a ship," Carth answered.

"Hey! I heard that!" Indy complained.

"I'm going with you to get Dustil, and that's final," Rani said, trying to look as intimidating as possible.

"That won't work with me, Rani, and you know it," Carth replied, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Well, what does work with you I can't exactly do in front of everyone!" Rani shot back, satisfied by the embarrassed look on Carth's face.

"Hey! Younger sibling present, and I do not want to hear that bantha poodoo!" Tren said, walking past the arguing couple to try and help repair the ship.

"Has she always been this stubborn?!" Carth asked Tren in frustration.

"Yep, pretty much," Tren said as he looked over Indy's shoulder.

"Carth, I'll help you save your son," Igrayne interjected.

The docking bay fell silent; even the talkative Jawa stopped his chatter. The admiral looked at her for a moment as if judging her skills.

"All right. Thank you, Igrayne."

"And I'm going, too!" Rani tried again.

"No, gorgeous," Carth said, pulling her stiff form into his arms.

With sudden overjoyed cheers from the others, the engines finally roared to life, sounding strong and capable. Atton, Tren, Indy, and Han hurriedly worked to put the ship back together so they could leave as soon as possible. Mithic nodded at the admiral. It was just understood between them that he would accompany him.

Rani resisted Carth's embrace for a moment before yielding to his affection. "I have to do this, Carth; I can't leave without you." Rani's large eyes filled with tears, her wall of anger crumbling.

"Then you know how I feel, Rani. I can't be worried about you while I'm trying to get Dustil out. I need you to get on that ship and away from here."

The woman's obstinacy abated as tears fell freely down her bronzed cheeks. Carth held her, pulling her tightly to his body. He didn't like the prospect of being separated from her any more than she did, but he knew it was for the best.

"Is this necessary?" Bao-Dur whispered to his lover.

Igrayne's eyes looked like obsidian as she answered his unvoiced question. "Carth won't leave this planet without his son, and considering everything that is going on, he shouldn't have to."

Bao was quiet for a few seconds, his kind eyes sullied with slight anger. He glanced at Carth and Rani, locked in a quiet embrace, before answering, "Then I shall follow you, as always."

Igrayne took in a deep breath. "No, I need Atton to come with us. He has the skills for this mission. You go with the others and get them safely to Kuat."

Bao-Dur's disappointment did not show on his face, but Igrayne could feel a bit of it through their Force bond. "Kuat?"

"Yes, it's my home planet. You all will be safe there. When you ask for permission to land, ask for Pruak, he will help you."

"Igrayne, you speak as if you won't be there."

"Maybe I won't…" she responded, her eyes looking far away for a moment. "Rand!" she called out suddenly.

Atton jogged over to her, used to her leadership in the time they'd spent traveling together.

"I suspect you know a way for us to get Dustil out of the TSF station?" she asked.

"Why? You think just because I'm a scoundrel I can break someone out of prison?"

Igrayne shrugged, unenthused.

"Well, you suspect right; I can do it," Atton said, sighing.

"Okay, we leave as soon as Carth's ready," she responded, purposely walking away from Bao-Dur.

When Atton turned around, he noticed Evy was no longer on the boarding ramp. As much as he was angry with her demands for commitment, the events of the day had put everything into perspective. He headed into the ship, mostly unnoticed by the others. It was dark in the tight hallways of the ship, and he ran right into Mical.

"Pardon me," the polite doctor reflexively said.

"Hey, blondie, where's Evy?"

"She's residing in the medbay."

"Is she okay?" Atton asked, his eyes suddenly filled with concern. He'd barely glanced at her when they'd found the docking bay because he'd been too busy with the furor of the others.

"She was injured, but she's okay…"

Atton didn't hear the rest of Mical's words as he sprinted the short way to the medbay. He found her in the medical bed, a light sheet covering her slightly shivering form.

"Sweets?"

She opened her glorious eyes, and they rested on his face as she smiled slightly. "Atton…"

He felt like there was a heavy object in the pit of his stomach, and he swallowed heavily to keep his emotions under control.

"How are you feeling?" He knew it was a stupid question, but it was the best he could come up with for the time.

"I'll live," she answered, giving him a wider yet tired smile. "Mical gave me something for the pain and bandaged my wound, which is the best that can be done considering the circumstances."

Atton nodded, avoiding her eyes. She was so beautiful, and she was supposed to be his. "Can I see?" he asked, wondering about her mysterious wound.

"You don't want to see it. It looks worse than it is and it's firmly bandaged," she quickly answered. She didn't want to worry Atton, and she knew it was a ghastly sight.

The scoundrel was a vision to her tired eyes. He had lost some weight and looked paler than the last time she'd seen him, but he still had that undeniable roughish attractiveness she was so fond of.

It was uncomfortable for a few silent seconds before Atton started searching through a locker in the room. Evy wanted to say something, anything, to the man she was still madly in love with, but she found herself too tired to find the words. Finally, he found the blanket he was looking for, and he covered her with it, tucking her in gently.

Atton leaned over her, brushing a long strand of golden hair out of her face.

"Thank you," she said, her voice so very soft.

Atton had to bend over her, his face close to hers just to hear her. "You were shivering," he answered.

"You're going with Carth, aren't you?" Evy asked, her green eyes seemed lighter than usual.

"Yeah…"

"Atton, be…please…" Evy struggled to speak; she was so exhausted and so weak.

"I know, sweets. I'm coming back, and when I do, I want you to know I am willing to do anything to be in your life." As the words came out of his mouth, Atton realized he'd wanted to tell her that for a while. He'd just never had the courage until now.

Evy's lips curved up as she struggled to keep her eyes open. "That better be a promise."

"It is," Atton responded before kissing her softly.

Atton was suddenly calmed by the response of her soft lips against his. There was much more to be said between them, but this was enough for now. When he finally took his lips off hers, Evy soon fell into a deep sleep. The scoundrel watched her sleep before leaving the ship.

-----------------

Mithic stood right outside the ship, instructing his little friend. "Listen, Friz, you can't come with us, but I need you to go the _Sunbeam_ and wait for us. Okay, do you understand?"

The Jawa chattered on about something before hobbling out toward the adjoining bay where Mithic's ship sat.

"You ready?" the captain asked Atton when he noticed the other man's presence.

"Sure…let's go save the admiral's brat."

Indy and Han boarded the ship, making their way to the cockpit. Mical was already on the ship, searching for any other medical supplies that might be stashed somewhere, since the _Blade_ wasn't exactly the picture of organization.

Bao-Dur delayed boarding, hoping to get a word with Igrayne. The Jedi had other plans, however, purposely avoiding the Zabrak. She wasn't sure what was wrong with her. For some reason for the past few weeks she had not been feeling completely herself. Her emotions were becoming harder and harder to control, and Bao's relative lack of emotion only served to exacerbate Igrayne's moodiness. A part of her was still angry at Bao for what she viewed as his overall callousness to her feelings, and the other part was not willing to say goodbye to him. She couldn't trust herself not to cry. It was okay for someone like Rani to show such emotion at a time like this, but Igrayne, as a Jedi knight, was expected to have better control over herself, a total and complete mastery of her feelings.

Trentyn also waited to board, deciding to stay behind with his sister, who was still having a drawn-out farewell with her boyfriend.

"Do me a favor, man," Atton said.

"Anything for you, bro. What's up?" Tren answered.

"Watch over Evy, too."

"Of course…of course, bro," Tren said, his normal smile replaced with a more appropriate serious expression. "I'll take care of her until you get back."

Atton forced a smile, and the best friends hugged, thumping one another's backs to make it seem less emotional and more manly.

"Don't get distracted by some other woman and forget watching over Evy," Atton teased.

"No, man, I'll treat her as if I'm the one who's in love with her!"

Atton punched Tren's shoulder companionably before stepping away.

Carth finally pulled away from Rani. They had only been in the docking bay for a few minutes, but in their situation, every second was valuable.

She was still crying, but her tears fell from her soulful eyes silently now. Carth gently pulled her chin up to look at him.

"Everything will be okay, I'll meet you on Kuat and we'll get this whole mess sorted out. You don't have to give up on your dreams."

Rani's hands gripped the arm Carth was holding her chin with. "It doesn't even matter anymore, Carth. I just want…I just want you."

The admiral wrapped his arms around her waist, letting himself give in to his pain of parting for a moment. Their lips met, and Carth kissed her fervently, not knowing if it would be the last time he would ever be able to touch the woman he loved. He would never forgive himself, though, if he left his son to die on Citadel Station.

"Come on! Let's get a move on here!" Indy called impatiently from the entrance to the ship.

Carth pulled away, his heart wrenching as he watched Trentyn lead Rani into the ship. Bao-Dur followed, and then the ramp retracted and the door was shut firmly.

Igrayne placed a hand on the admiral's shoulder as they watched, along with Mithic and Atton, the _Centurion's Blade_ take off and disappear into the sky.

---------------

As the _Centurion's Blade_ flew farther and farther away from Citadel Station, the passengers fell silent, all wondering if the admiral's mission would be successful. The only sound that could be heard was the straining sound of the _Blade's_ engines, machines beeping, and the occasional clang from the hold as Indy tried to fix something. Trentyn was sitting in the main hold, staring at the metallic floor of the _Blade_, Mical was hovering just outside the med bay where Evy slept a fitful sleep, and Han was dutifully watching over the ship's controls.

Rani gave a shaky sigh as she sat on one of the beds in the port dorm. With a stray hand, she wiped away the occasional tear as she thought of the ones they had left behind and Carth. She looked up and caught a glimpse of herself on the reflective surface of a small mirror lying on the bed. The recently shed tears had smudged up her makeup, and she thought she looked awful.

Giving a defiant glare at the mirror, she began to wipe her face clean. She decided she would not cry anymore; it wouldn't help Carth or the others if she did. When her face looked once again normal, if not a bit puffy from crying, she gave a small sad smile as she felt the thrum of the ship's engines, which emanated through the whole ship. The battered and bruised ship held many memories of their last adventure: happy, sad, and exhilarating.

She let a grin cross her face. If they survived their last adventure, they would survive this one. They only needed to have faith that their skills were good enough. Rani stood and made her way to the main hold; there was no use spending the time they had on the ship alone.

-----------------

Indy gave the ship another solid whack with her hydrospanner as she fought to straighten a metal piece that had come out of place. The beating was fueled by her anger, and she did admit that hitting something made her feel better. All the frustration that had built up during their flight for freedom was showing now. She just couldn't believe the TSF had labeled the "heroes" as "terrorists." _How dare they! We've done nothing but help them!_

She was about to give the panel another whack when a hand took hold of her hydrospanner. Looking to the culprit with an angry glare, she beheld Bao-Dur, who was looking at her with something akin to amusement.

"Hitting the ship won't help you fix it," he said in that undeniably, infuriatingly calm tone that was just Bao-Dur.

"I wasn't! The panel, I was trying to…" she sputtered, but Bao held up a hand and gave her a sardonic smile.

"Go, Indy. I'll do this."

Amazingly enough, Indy wandered away, leaving her tools in Bao's care. When she had exited the engine room, she scratched her head in confusion. Had she just been politely kicked out of her own engine room? Shaking her head, she slowly made her way to the cockpit. Maybe Han was doing something more relaxing than beating the ship into submission.

------------------

Evy awoke with a jolt. She didn't know how long she had been asleep, but it felt like only minutes. At first she had no idea where she was, but when she felt the familiar thrum of an engine and was accosted by the faint smell of grease, accompanied by the uniform odor of a medical facility. She realized she was aboard the _Centurion's Blade_ in the medbay. She frowned as the events of the past days came back to her. Letting out a groan, she let her thoughts wander to those still on Telos.

Would they survive the daring rescue mission? She sure hoped they would.

------------------

As the ship containing Bastila, Kavar, and Carina entered hyperspace, it shook unstably. Their own ship had been detained under false pretenses by the TSF, and so they'd had to "borrow" a different one. The Jedi had every intention of returning it when they had a chance and when it was safe to return to the chaotic planet of Telos.

At the moment, silence settled on the three Jedi, engulfing the room with the heavy weight of worry and concern. Confusion and doubt also permeated some of their thoughts. Kavar was busy focusing his attention on flying the ship while Carina paced listlessly behind him. Bastila stood stoically to the side, as always.

Stars whirled by them while they remained in hyperspace, and although it required no piloting seeing as they were on a set course destined for Coruscant, Kavar remained at the controls. He did that partially due to the false hope that Carina wouldn't ask him anything if she thought he was busy. The Jedi master wasn't prepared to tell her about her past and the people in it, and he believed the Council wouldn't want him to do that either.

Bastila, although she looked to be the very image of a calm and collected Jedi, was thoroughly worried for her companions who had been labeled "terrorists." She was also concerned for Trentyn. The concern was unwelcome, especially since she didn't want the feelings and emotions that came along with caring about the ex-Sith scoundrel again. It was easier to just ignore them than to face what she was feeling. She did, however, hope he remained safe along with the rest of her allies.

Carina continued to pace, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. Who were those people who seemed to have known her so closely? The shocked expressions on their faces also remained ingrained in her mind. They _had_ known her, she was certain of it. But she wasn't sure if the person they knew had been a very good person at all.

In fact, Carina didn't remember much of anything in her past. The Council and Kavar had kept her past hidden from her for the most part, and that bothered her greatly. When she'd encountered them before, asking about it, they had simply brushed her off with the excuse that it "wasn't her place to know at the moment." This response had angered her considerably, but she managed to keep her cool, knowing it wouldn't help her to lose it.

Her eyes flitted back and forth from Kavar, who was piloting, to Bastila, who had assumed a meditative pose on the floor of the cockpit. Carina could sense peace emanating from her, but deeper within, she could feel the fear eating away at her. This Jedi also knew who she was, yet like Kavar, she kept her silence.

Carina eventually tired of pacing around the small confines of the cockpit, and she leaned against the wall, keeping her breathing measured, but opening herself up to the Force to try and sense her companion's thoughts and feelings. As always, Kavar's thoughts remained blocked from her. Bastila was deep within the flow of the Force, and her mind remained empty, filled with peace at the moment. Carina couldn't understand how they could act as if what had just happened didn't happen. So many people had just died, and they acted as if it was just another day.

"Who were those men?" Carina finally asked, breaking the deafening silence.

Kavar remained silent.

"They knew me, didn't they?"

"Now is not the time to—" Kavar began.

Carina slammed her fist against the interior of the ship roughly, "Now is never the time, is it?! Nor will it ever be _the time_, will it?! Will it, Kavar?!"

Before the master had a chance to respond, Carina swiftly left the cockpit, heading toward a different part of the ship to let her anger simmer and die, but instead her anger continued to boil.

She grimaced as the pain in her leg came back to her. The adrenaline of the battle had hidden the pain momentarily, and now it was coming back full force. She leaned against one of the walls for support as she gripped her throbbing leg. The wound was deep, but fortunately she had not lost much blood.

She felt a gentle hand touch her shoulder and she withdrew from it instantly, swinging around to meet Kavar's soft gaze with her own fiery expression.

"Don't touch me," she hissed at him, trying to give the impression of strength as she stomped off, but instead she found herself limping painfully and feeling quite out of breath.

"It is not a weakness to ask for aid, Padawan," Kavar commented as he watched her.

"Cut the Jedi crap, Kavar. I don't need the Jedi right now," Carina said, her old self rising to the surface.

The determined Jedi finally made it to the medbay, where she slumped down onto a bed. Kavar had followed and was now leaning against the doorway, watching her put pressure on her wound and grimace in pain.

"How about help from a friend then?" Kavar finally said softly.

Carina's expression softened, but her voice still held some bitterness and resentment in it. "What friend? I don't have any friends, if you remember."

Kavar sighed audibly. "So this is what you intend to do, Carina? Just sulk and wallow in your anger? It isn't very Jedi-like."

"I didn't ask to be a Jedi."

"But your choices forced you into that role…"

"You _made_ me one."

"…And it that role which you will do best to accept, _Padawan_."

"Stop calling me that," Carina snapped, though she was slowly growing tired of the argument already, the pain in her leg dampening her spirit.

Kavar moved and sat in a chair adjacent to where Carina sat, pathetically trying to bandage her leg.

"Would you like some help?" he asked.

"No."

"I thought you'd say that," Kavar replied nonchalantly. "As your Jedi master, however, I order you to accept my help, _Padawan_."

Carina clenched her teeth to avoid another outburst as Kavar helped bandage her leg.

"There," he said when he finished. "It'll still hurt, but the pain should fade in a couple of hours."

Carina nodded.

The silence between them was anything but comfortable, and Kavar could sense the thundering emotions beneath Carina's apathetic facade. He knew he should speak to her about some current events, but at the same time he thought it was better if the Council handled her.

"Kavar—"

"Carina—"

They both started at each other, growing silent yet again.

"I'm sorry for my outburst, Master," Carina said in a monotone. "It won't happen again."

This was not the response Kavar had been expecting so he merely nodded, mumbling, "Good."

After a few seconds, he decided he'd just go back to pretending to pilot or go meditate or something. Anything to take his mind off his troublesome padawan.

However, the moment he left, he began to hear soft sobs emanating from the medbay where he'd just been. He often forgot she was only human, and Carina was a special case. The crying he heard made him feel all the more guilty for being so harsh on the woman. After all, no one deserved this, no matter what their crimes.

He went to go back in when Bastila finally spoke up. "Leave her."

"What?" he asked, turning to face the Jedi.

"You can't protect her forever, Kavar. She will have to come to terms with what she's done eventually," Bastila said emotionlessly. "And when that happens, she will have to take the punishment that has been reserved for her by the Republic."

Kavar looked at the Jedi with eyebrows raised. "Is that your thinking, Jedi Bastila? That a few bad deeds can never be redeemable?"

Bastila's gaze matched his. "No, but she needs to know what she's done, the pain she's caused people."

"Not now—"

"Why not, Kavar? You're becoming too attached to this woman," Bastila snapped. "Your interest in her extends beyond that of a master in his pupil. You know it, too, don't you?"

"This conversation is over, Jedi Bastila, and I advise you to keep your opinions to yourself while in the presence of my apprentice," Kavar snapped back uncharacteristically. He suddenly felt extremely protective of Carina.

Bastila clenched her teeth together. "Of course, Master."

As she stalked off, Kavar simply placed a hand on his forehead, trying to understand what in Force's name was happening to the Jedi and the galaxy.

-------------

The soft hum of the engines in the _Centurion's Blade_ was comforting to Rani as she sat in the main hold, sipping some sort of drink Indy had made her. Speaking of the smuggler, Indy didn't seem her usual somewhat chipper self, but instead, she seemed almost mournful. Something was bothering her, Rani surmised, but she wasn't sure what.

In fact, when she thought about it, she didn't know much about Indy despite all they'd gone through together. They'd been friends, certainly, but both knew little about each other. It was surprising when she thought about it, but not completely unexpected since they had all been busy with their own lives and problems.

Indy sat across from Rani in the hold, eyes cast downward at the table. Rani's eyes did the same, her hands wrapped around her little mug of caffa. She hadn't gotten much sleep as of late, and any caffeine would be welcome.

"So..." Rani began, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

"So," replied Indy.

"How are you and Han doing?" Rani queried, thinking it a safe subject.

Indy shrugged indifferently.

"Is that a sign for good or...?" Rani let her sentence trail off as she received another indifferent shrug from Indy.

Silence fell between the women again, bringing with it only the soft lull of the hyperdrive engine.

"Not one for much talk today, are we?" Rani continued, despite how awkward it felt.

"I don't know about you, but I'm certainly pissed off as hell at the Republic and their damned media right now," Indy finally said, her voice escalating in volume. "I mean, do they know what we've done for them? And for them to turn around and just—just call us...they're insane! All of them!"

"I don't think it's the Republic doing this, Indy," Rani said in an effort to calm her enraged friend. "I think the Republic is just a pawn in a larger game of Dejarik, if you get my meaning."

"Oh, I get it," Indy scoffed. "I never liked that damn game anyway."

Rani forced a smile. "Neither did I. However, I think right now the galaxy is in an upheaval. Not surprising considering what it's gone through."

Rani took another sip of her caffa before Indy replied, "We've gone through the same things, but you don't see _us_ calling _them_ terrorists."

Bao-Dur, who had been listening silently all this time, thought this a good moment to add in his two credits' worth of advice.

"Like Rani said, the galaxy is in an upheaval. When one is wounded, they lash out at anyone and everyone around them. The Republic is simply looking for a scapegoat," Bao-Dur said in his normally calm tone.

"But why us? I mean, of all the people in the galaxy, why couldn't they blame the Hutts or something?" Indy asked.

"We were available and we were not in the best position to defy them or do anything about being accused," Bao-Dur said, pondering aloud. "Perhaps they seek to crush both the Jedi and the Sith now?"

Rani shook her head. "No, the Republic wouldn't slaughter those who have aided them for so long."

"They would, too," Indy interrupted, "as long as they believed we'd be a sort of means to an end of Force-users in general."

"True," Bao-Dur agreed.

"I just can't believe the Republic that we've fought so hard for would just turn its back on us for such an uncertain and ignorant reason," Rani said sadly, shaking her head.

"It's happened before to others," Bao-Dur replied.

"I know. The galaxy is full of evil; I've seen it. But still..." Rani paused. "Part of me still believes most people are genuinely good..."

Indy snorted. "That's the problem with you hardcore Republic types—you think everyone in the Republic is a good, decent, upstanding fellow when they could be the slime of the galaxy."

Rani remained silent, lost in her own thoughts—thoughts that mainly consisted of Carth and his safety. The conversation had turned into a dark line of thinking, and although it temporarily distracted her from her worries about Carth, it only served to make her more anxious as they traveled through the depths of space.

------------------

Meanwhile, Mical was looking over at Evy, who had just recently awoken. The mild sedatives he had managed to scrounge up and give to her were wearing off now, and he feared she'd be in a lot of pain soon.

"How do you feel?" Mical asked as he searched for more supplies in the cramped quarters of the medbay.

"Like I was just run over by several speeders," she replied honestly.

Mical's expression softened. "I'm sorry, Evy. I really wish there was more I could do. But, at the moment, my supplies are limited and I—"

Evy struggled and placed a hand on his arm. "I know, Mical. What you're doing is plenty. Thank you."

Mical's smile was faint, but it was there, and he replied, "You are most welcome, Evy. If you need anything or if the pain becomes too much, just let me know...and I will see what I can do."

"You've done enough, Mical," Evy said gently. "You should get some sleep."

Mical didn't want to go to sleep, for he had been plagued recently by his dreams. "That's quite all right. I am not tired at the moment, and I have other things to do—"

"Hey," Evy called to him.

"Yes?" he replied, not looking up from some notes he had just jotted down.

"If you ever need to...talk...I'm here to listen," Evy offered.

Mical looked at her this time, his brilliant blue eyes meeting her gentle ones. He simply nodded and then disappeared from the small room. As soon as he left, he was nearly pounced upon by Trentyn, who had been waiting, albeit a bit impatiently, outside of the room.

"So what's the diagnosis, doc?" he asked, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes.

"She's in some pain, but she should be feeling a lot better in a couple of days. I've wrapped up her wounds, and they should leave no scars hopefully."

Trentyn nodded. "Good, good. Can I see her?"

Mical hesitated. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea right now. She _is_ recovering..."

"Come on, doc. What's it gonna hurt?" Trentyn said, throwing him a falsely innocent smile.

"I suppose..." Mical said at last.

Trentyn thumped him on the back, said, "Thanks, doc!" and then disappeared into the medbay.

Mical sighed, rubbed his forehead, and then went back to distracting himself from his present mental concerns.


	15. Chaos Reigns

In the short time since the fighting began, Citadel Station had gone from pristine living conditions to a hellish abattoir, due in no small part to the actions of Jene Cyrus. The hallway in which he fought was littered with the bodies of the dead, most so mutilated or burned that they were unrecognizable. The screams of the dying echoed through the halls of the station into the depths of space, never to be heard again. He continued to fight, driven by a maddening combination of rage and remorse, and with every passing moment more and more met their end at the tip of his blade. The blades themselves were as contradictory as the will that drove them, the war sword as elegant as it was deadly, while the chain sword was mechanical and brutal as it ripped apart its foes. One by one, the outclassed mercenaries and officers fell to these swords, victims of their own fear more than their incompetence. The insane sounds of battle filled their ears, sucking the life from them even before Jene was near them. Their lone foe felt no such demoralizing fears. He waded through their ranks, cutting them down where they stood, trusting his shields, his armor, and his natural toughness to protect him from harm. All around him was red.

His chain sword fell again, catching a TSF officer at an angle just below his neck, and there was a satisfying buzz as the rotating blades tore through his spinal column, stifling the scream that would otherwise have come forth. Simultaneously, his war sword found its way between the ribs of a Rodian mercenary, puncturing its lung before cutting into its heart, prompting a shower of blood over his arm. He quickly removed the sword to parry a clumsy vibroblade swing from an overeager mercenary. He disarmed him with a single flick of his sword before disemboweling the man, shoving the war sword into his gut and ripping out his entrails with it. He quickly exchanged blows with a more formidable Trandoshan mercenary, but he too fell, decapitated by the hungry teeth of his chain sword.

This dance of death continued for all of ten minutes, and in this time he had dispatched more than fifty adversaries in hand-to-hand combat. Body parts were strewn all over the place, and blood covered every surface it could find. Jene himself found a streak of blood across his body, including a bloody handprint from when a TSF officer stupidly grabbed his arm while trying to plead for his life. Jene was beyond negotiation.

Cyrus hesitated a single moment to take in the scene, then he walked away from the hallway and pressed a small button on a remote that found its way into his hand. Instantly, the scene was engulfed in flames as a casually laid incendiary charge went off, instantly cremating all those who had died there.

He reloaded his sun rifle and pistols and exchanged his swords for the large rifle as he made his way toward the starport, where his ship was docked. He got into a few firefights with TSF officers who, in either a display of zealotry or were mad with fear, shot everything that moved. None lasted more than ten seconds after taking a shot at him. He also passed a holding area, where the ex-Sith he had quarreled with before was sitting in a Force cage. He stopped for a moment to leer at him, moving on before his guards caught sight of him. Were he not in such a foul mood, he might have gone in to rescue him, but he figured he'd let Carth have the fun of doing that.

---------------

"You called, sir?" asked the Sith captain.

"Yes, servant, I want to know the progress on Telos. Have any ships left the planet?" replied Master Eklipse, eager to hear about his unfolding plan.

"Yes, sir, a few civilian ships carrying survivors and wounded, a military vessel belonging to a dead TSF captain, and an unregistered freighter ship."

"No _Sunbeam_-class ships?"

"None yet, sir. Do you have any other task to ask of me?"

"Yes, prepare the _Corruption_ for departure. We're going to intercept my brother when he leaves. I can sense his filth on the station from here."

---------------

"Damn it, not another one. Come on, can't you use a damned lightsaber on this door?" was all Atton got out of his mouth before Igrayne stopped him.

"Just do it, Atton. This is supposed to be your area of expertise."

"All right, all right" he said, and then started on the lock. In just less than fifteen seconds, he exclaimed, "Pure Pazaak. This one was easier than I thought."

"Good work, Atton, but we need to keep moving," Mithic chimed in.

"Yeah, we've got to get to Dustil before any of the mercs do," Carth added.

"All right, if memory serves, we need to take the east corridor until we see the last door on the right, and that's the TSF area. He should be in there," Mithic stated before walking through the recently opened door in the direction he had pointed. The others followed, and they stopped in front of the TSF station. Five TSF officers and a TSF lieutenant, judging by his uniform, blocked their path. The lieutenant stepped forward to greet them.

"You are all traitors to the Republic and are to be detained immediately. If you do not comply, we are permitted to use force to bring you in," he said calmly as his subordinates drew stun weapons and energy cuffs from their belts.

Carth and Atton drew blasters, and Mithic and Igrayne drew lightsabers. The battle was quick and tipped very favorably in the direction of the four heroes. Mithic instructed them to try to deal as little physical harm to them as possible, and they understood. He pressed the tip of his saber lightly into the lieutenant's right thigh, and the man fell to the floor, grasping his wound. Carth fired two blaster bolts at two of the officers. They each fell, one with a wounded shoulder, the other sustaining a blaster wound to the stomach. Atton shot at the two closest officers and they crumpled to the ground with grievous wounds to the neck and forehead. They were the only casualties of the battle. The remaining officer fired a bolt at Igrayne, and she effortlessly deflected it back at him, stunning him.

The immediate threat dealt with for the time being, the heroes proceeded to the Force cage room. In the back on the left was a shady-looking Duros who was having a conversation with a human male in the cage opposite him. The group approached the human, whose face was concealed by shadow, and when he turned toward them they realized it was in fact Dustil Onasi. Carth was the first to get closer to Dustil.

"Dustil…"

"Dad, you came here to save me, didn't you?"

"No, _we_ came to save you. Dustil, I was so worried about you…"

A few feet away, Mithic stopped Atton as he was inching toward Dustil's Force cage, intending to disable it.

"No need, Atton. A friend of mine told me of a device that disables Force cages."

"Yeah, it's called a lightsaber," Igrayne cut in. She ignited her saber and thrust it into the Force cage. The cage flickered and then shut off. Dustil stepped out of the cage.

"Many thanks, Igrayne," Dustil said, and then turned to face his father again. "And why do you worry so much about me, Dad? I'm a grown man, not your little kid. You can't worry about my safety every waking moment for the rest of your days, Father."

"I guess you're right, Son. But it's just that after your mother died, you're the only true family I have left. After I heard you were on a ship that was destroyed during the Battle of Dantooine, I was devastated. I thought I had lost my wife and my son to war."

"And you say this while you and that Taraster lady are sleeping together. After the battle, you probably forgot about me. 'Oh, my only son in the galaxy just died, but we won a battle, so let's celebrate!' Bullshit! You didn't even look for me."

"I thought you were dead! Dustil, come to your senses. I could see those ships explode from the planet surface! There was almost no chance anyone survived!"

"Fine, whatever, I don't care. Thank you all for rescuing me. Dad, Igrayne, Atton Rand, and who is this? I don't recognize him."

"I am Captain John Mithic, Mr. Onasi."

"Ah, Captain Mithic. I heard you were the one who led the attack on Master Destrik's warships.

"I take no more credit than any of my wingmates in Yellow Squadron. We shared the victory among ourselves and among all of the soldiers fighting on the planet Dantooine."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get off this junk heap and burn sky!" Atton called from the back of the group.

"Yeah, we need to go before those officers get up again. They could call for support soldiers," Igrayne added, and then they were off. They took the shuttle to the docking bay and proceeded to board the _Sunbeam_. "We're going to Kuat to meet with the others. I can help you pilot the ship if you want, Mithic."

"All right, Igrayne, but if you need a break feel free to get Atton up here."

Mithic punched in the hyperspace coordinates, turned on the Supralight drive, and got the ship out of the docking bay. He flipped the hyperspace drive switch, but nothing happened.

"What's wrong with the hyperspace drive? R9, run a diagnostic."

The droid chimed a chorus of beeps, and Mithic translated.

"He says intruders disabled the hyperspace drive and took most of my fuel. I have some extra, and it might be enough to get to Kuat, but we still need to repair the drive. Igrayne, please have Atton get on that now."

Just then, a familiar jet black ship dropped out of hyperspace, and then communications went offline.

"Oh, why this? Why now, of all times? R9, bring all weapons online. We're going to need full power to weapons and shields." He turned on the ship's communications to contact the others. "Carth and Igrayne, meet me in the ship's cockpit. Atton, continue working on the hyperdrive."

Carth and Igrayne ran to the cockpit and were immediately issued orders.

"Carth, you pilot the ship. Igrayne, you control weapons. All the guns are linked to the control console. Also, the one labeled _JSB_ is a Jedi shadow bomb. It's basically a huge bomb propelled by the Force so they don't need to put fuel in it. You just need to direct them into the ship. I'm going to take my starfighter out and try to land on the ship. After I leave, put a shadow bomb in the hangar door so I can get in."

Mithic Force-dashed to the hangar and activated _Moonlight_, his A-Wing starfighter. He diverted all power to the forward shields and left the _Sunbeam_. A hail of fire was directed his way, and he evaded most of it. There were holes singeing the ship from turbolaser fire, but she held up. Ahead of him, the warship's hangar exploded and left a gaping hole open in the side. They had apparently caught them by surprise with the hangar assault. He flew his starfighter into the warship's hangar and was met by a group of soldiers. He grabbed a breath mask and stepped into the depressurized area. He had to call deeply on the Force to keep from being torn apart in open space, but he was still able to dispatch the soldiers that had met him. He then exited the hangar and began exploring the corridors, occasionally having to kill soldiers along the way. He spared one for questioning.

"Where is the bridge of the ship?"

"I'm not going to tell you. You're the enemy!"

"I want to help you." Mithic said to him.

The trooper repeated his statement in the same voice.

"You will tell me where the bridge is. You will help me fight along the way," Mithic said, lifting his hand to the man.

"I will tell you where the bridge is. I will help you fight along the way," the trooper repeated, and then he led him through long hallways. They had to fire on many other troopers along the way, and having one of their own attacking them confused them, which was an added advantage for Mithic. He eventually made it to the bridge, but after attacking the guards posted outside the doors, he lost his fighting aide. He cut the doors of the bridge open and confronted his clone brother.

"Eklipse! Show yourself! I know you're here on this ship, in this room."

"Very good, Mithic. I have been expecting you. Well, I don't want to make a mess of you in my bridge, so let's take this outside, shall we?"

Eklipse jumped high over Mithic and into the hallway. Mithic followed. The black and white glow from the contact of their lightsabers lit the corridor brilliantly. Each of the clones' attacks was parried by the other, as if they knew where the other would strike before they did. Eklipse was throwing objects from rooms they passed at Mithic, but Mithic's lightsaber mastery countered his brother's Dun Moch skills. They each were winning the fight at different times, and they were moving back toward Mithic's A-Wing. He used a Force push on Eklipse and sent him flying across a long hallway and into the hangar doors. Mithic then put his breath mask back on and ran to strike again.

Eklipse got up just in time to deflect a well-aimed strike at his head, but he was pinned against a wall. Drawing on the Force to sustain his breath, he sliced open the hangar doors and sealed off a small area to keep the atmosphere in the rest of the ship. Mithic jumped over his brother's head and landed next to his starfighter. Eklipse ran forward while activating a switch on his saber. The lightsaber grew to twice its size, surprising Mithic. Eklipse almost bisected Mithic with a quick strike, but it gave Mithic an opening. He used another Force push on Eklipse, knocking him through the opening in the hangar and leaving the Sith lord drifting in space.

Mithic boarded his starfighter and fired up the engines for the flight back to the _Sunbeam_. Before he had a chance to tell Igrayne to fire on his clone brother, the crew of the warship retrieved their captain. Atton had fixed the hyperdrive, and they left the Telos system for Kuat.

-------------------

The lights flickered on and off, casting brief shadows across the small medbay. The brief flickering of the malfunctioning lights was due largely to the bad condition of the ship the Jedi were currently "borrowing." Its main systems were badly damaged, seemingly from a previous battle with unknown enemies, but they were continuing to run, if only at minimal power. The ship creaked in many places, giving it an eerie feeling of weakness. The flickering lights only added to the dark atmosphere, as did the tension of its crew.

Bastila was currently attempting to keep the ship together while it continued on its course toward Coruscant. After her argument, if it could be called that, with Master Kavar, she had retreated to the cockpit, mildly ashamed about leveling an accusation at the Jedi master. She shouldn't have let her feelings get in the way of what mattered, but her opinion had to be known, of that she was certain. The Council would deal with Carina when they saw fit to do so, and she hoped they would punish her in the extreme. After all the crimes she'd committed, it would be too merciful—in Bastila's eyes—to let her live. She knew that line of thinking to be dark and un-Jedi like, but the thought of Carina's punishment had filtered through her mind constantly during these past few days.

Her fingers deftly worked at the controls of the ship, trying to boost most of the power to the hyperdrive. If they dropped out of hyperspace, they'd be sitting Gizka for space pirates and thieves—or anyone opposed to the Republic or Jedi, which made their list of enemies seem incredibly large. Their weapons were offline, and even if they could spare power to them, it would—in the end—be too great of a risk, especially with their shields malfunctioning as they were. In fact, how the ship was remaining intact was a general mystery to the Jedi.

The ship shuddered, and their hyperspace journey seemed to be taking excruciatingly long to complete. It would be only an hour or so until they reached Coruscant, and seeing the citywide planet would be a welcome relief to Bastila. The Jedi Temple was as good a home as she'd ever known, and to be back in a place of peace and tranquility would calm her frazzled nerves and mind.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her and recognized it as Carina's. Through the Force, she could almost see her body standing erect and stiff behind her. The image within her mind was hazy, however, and Carina's alignment grey. Confusion and doubt surrounded the padawan, creating even more tension within the confines of the stuffy cockpit.

"Mind if I join you, Jedi Bastila?" Carina's voice queried softly. It was times like these when Bastila really did doubt Carina's shady past. The padawan sounded so unsure of herself and weak, a feeling all too familiar to Bastila. She almost wanted to take pity on her and absolve her of her crimes.

Almost.

"Certainly."

The ex-Sith lord slid into the co-pilot's seat, trying to get comfortable in the steel chair, but failing miserably. After a time, she gave up and sat with her legs hanging over the chair's arms and her head resting against one propped up arm. She glanced outward into infinite black space and then whispered, "I feel so lost."

The Jedi at the controls had to glance at her to make sure she was speaking to the same woman who had threatened the galaxy only months ago. Her voice held such fear in it, such emotion, that Bastila could only look at her in wonder.

"Kavar thinks I don't remember my past, but I do," Carina said after a moment of heavy silence. "I remember fragments, brief images, sometimes even people, only it's usually fleeting. Like Jedi Knight Igrayne... I feel as if I should know her, but when I search my mind it's just—"

"Just what?" Bastila asked, unable to stifle her curiosity.

Carina sighed. "I try to be a good padawan, an _ideal_ padawan. Really, I do. But Kavar can't seem to see the fact I'm trying. All he sees are failures. _My_ failures."

"He's a Jedi master," Bastila pointed out. "It's his job to see flaws in our techniques."

"It's not that; I just get this feeling he sees a flaw in me personally."

"Kavar simply does not want to seem weak in your eyes," Bastila replied instinctively, forgetting for a moment who she was talking to.

Carina looked at her now, her deep emerald gaze piercing far past Bastila's façade of indifference. "You think so?"

Her eyes held such hope, such a desire to be loved, that Bastila could only nod her head, not willing to deny the woman one bit of satisfaction.

A soft smile crept to Carina's lips. "Thank you."

"For what?" Bastila asked, putting up her stoic expression again.

Carina dropped the subject, shifting in her seat again in an attempt to get comfortable. However, just as she did get comfortable, Kavar entered the cockpit, his unwavering gaze sweeping from Bastila to Carina. She didn't have to be looking at him to sense his displeasure. She'd done something wrong..._again_. She wasn't sure what, but she knew it was something.

The Jedi master stood frighteningly still behind both women, contemplating his own confusing thoughts while staring out into space, watching the stars whirl past them in a constant blur of light. Soon, they'd be back on Coruscant, and hopefully he could get Carina off his hands.

He only doubted he'd be able to get her out of his mind.

--------------------

Carth, after being forced to abandon his piloting duties to Mithic and Igrayne, could only pace around the cockpit anxiously. He wanted to hurry and get to Kuat in order to see Rani's beautiful, smiling face and to make sure she got there safely. If anything had happened to her on the way there, he knew he'd never forgive himself.

However, this was not the only cause of his anxiety. His son, whom he had previously thought dead, was waiting in one of the quarters near the back of the ship. He hadn't spoken much to him, but what little interaction they'd had was tense and strained. The admiral couldn't very well blame him, especially since he felt betrayed and paranoia was a common trait in their family. He knew he had to earn Dustil's trust back, which he intended to do as soon as his son would agree to speak civilly with him. Thought that, he thought, might take some time.

"We're approaching Kuat now," Igrayne notified Carth.

Carth simply nodded. "Any sign of—"

"No, but they've probably already landed," Mithic interrupted, knowing what Carth was going to ask. "Why don't you go prepare for docking?"

In other words, Carth's hovering was making both Igrayne and Mithic nervous, and he should bugger off and give them time to initiate the landing sequence. Carth almost chuckled, but then thought the better of it and nodded in silent acquiescence.

As he moved down the corridor of the ship, he caught a glimpse of movement out of the periphery of his vision. He turned fast to see Dustil disappearing into one of the starboard quarters. He figured now was as good a time as any to speak with his son.

"Dustil?" he asked quietly, stepping into the room. "You in here, Son?"

"Where else would I be, Father?" responded the dark man, sitting in the shadows in his room. "This ship is not that big."

"Can we talk?"

Dustil laughed coldly. "You want to talk, Father? Then go ahead. I'll listen...for now."

Carth swallowed hard, trying to picture his son as he once was: a happy child. "I know how hard everything has been, and I know how betrayed you must feel, but you have to know, Dustil, that I am deeply sorry for what's happened."

Dustil remained silent, and his face was covered in shadow. Carth was uncetain how he was feeling. He continued on. "I wish I could take away these painful memories and bring back your mother, I do, but we both know that isn't possible. And accepting that fact that has allowed me to move on."

He paused, allowing his son a moment to talk, but Dustil remained silent.

"You hate me right now, I know, and you can keep continuing to hate me as long as you like, but right now—right now, Son—I just want you to be happy. If hating me makes you happy, then so be it, but something's eating you up inside. If you don't let go of that something, you're going to wake up one day and realize you've wasted your life trying to chase away demons."

Dustil remained still, stoic, and silent. Carth decided he could say no more to his son, so he simply began to head back the way he came. Hesitating at the door, he whispered, "I love you, Dustil. I always have, and I always will."

Then he exited the small, darkened room, leaving behind a son who was just beginning to learn how to heal.

---------------------

It did not take long for Jene to make his way to the hangar, as he made sure to keep all possible staging areas behind him. The lack of explosions for some time now indicated that the others had left Telos, which meant any work he had here was done. He had abandoned his cigarette some time ago, and he didn't take the time to light a new one as he made his way toward the spaceport, which by now would probably be empty. The entire station seemed empty. It was a deathly quiet network of metal, a giant chunk of dead durasteel floating over a dead planet. The only signs that there was life here had ceased with the explosions, and now only the occasional corpse or streak of blood reminded him he was not alone.

He finally approached the docking bay and stepped inside to find it empty, as predicted. His ship was still docked, probably since the TSF had had no idea of his involvement until he had wiped out half their ranks. At that point, there wasn't anyone left who could do too much to stop him. No other ships were docked, not even that gigantic starship he had docked near. However, the outer doors were shut, which was annoying, not because he couldn't do anything about it, but because he knew someone was there. If the starship was gone, then the doors must have been opened at some point, but if they were closed now someone must have closed them. Given the lack of back ways through the station and the fact he hadn't seen anyone come from the starport, they were probably still here.

His first instinct was to check the hangar control room, and as he looked up at the glass he was greeted with the fleeting image of a man's face near the glass before ducking down under it. He took a pistol in his left hand and his war sword in his right, and he ascended the stairs to the control room. The door was locked, but five seconds and one "skeleton key" code later, he had it open. It didn't take much longer to find the lone TSF officer hiding under a terminal desk. The man was young, probably in his early twenties, and obviously green, given how he cowered at Jene's mere presence, which was exactly why he hesitated to shoot him. Realizing this man had the override codes for the hangar doors, he didn't shoot him at all.

The mercenary's expression twisted into a half smile before he calmly said, "Don't move and give me your weapon. Now." The contradictory orders seemed to confuse the officer, so he clarified by saying, "Slide your blaster over to me, you dimwit, before I change my mind!"

The man didn't need to be told twice, and he slid his pistol across the ground to him. Jene removed the power cell from the weapon and then tossed it into a far corner.

"If you've got anything hidden, you'd better give them up now. I'm quicker on the draw than you, kid, and I shoot to kill. Last chance. If you've got a hold-out or a knife over there, give me them now."

The officer sighed and slid a sheathed vibrodagger over to him, which he clipped to an empty space on his belt. "Th-that's all I've got, sir. What do you want?" The man was obviously mortified by his current situation, which only amused Jene further, and he allowed a hollow half smile to play across his otherwise cold features.

"Have a seat; we have a few things to discuss."

The man hesitated for a moment, but eventually complied, pulling himself out from under the terminal and into a nearby chair. Jene took another chair and pulled it just out of striking distance from the man, just in case. By now the officer was visibly shaking with fear, but Jene didn't pay much attention to it. He was more concerned with leaving this forsaken station at the moment.

"Let me make this as clear as possible: I want out of here. You see that ship there, just waiting to fly away? That's my ship, and I need those hangar doors open so I can get it out of here. You're in here, so I'm assuming you know how to open it, and that's exactly what you're going to do."

Whatever hesitation the officer might have had was gone now, and he wasted no time in punching in the override codes to open the hangar. The sound of no less than ten servo-motors activating at once was like music to Jene's ears, as one who had spent his entire life basking in the glory of machines. Now he had what he wanted, Jene was at a quandary: should he kill him or not? He absentmindedly tapped his sword to his forehead and looked up to see what would ultimately make his decision for him: a small band of gold wrapped around the officer's third finger. It didn't even take Jene an instant to recognize it as a wedding band. He smiled, not a cold and malicious smile, but a genuine one.

He blinked hard, to make sure he saw it and then asked with a noticeable tone of surprise, "You're married?"

The officer was obviously taken off guard by the question, but he managed a choked chuckle and replied, "Yeah, just last year."

The mercenary, who had for many years been known for his bouts of exceptional cruelty, only gave an approving nod and inquired again, "Any kids yet?"

The officer uttered a short burst of laughter, and nodded before saying, "Yep, one beautiful little girl."

The both of them were smiling in a rather odd manner, considering the circumstances, and a brief silence which under any other condition would have been awkward ensued. Jene finally broke the silence, standing up rather abruptly and pulling from one of his multitude of pockets a small datapad and a credit chip, before saying, "I would suggest that you leave here soon. From what I learned, Czerka's going to be making another push real soon, and seeing as how I just wasted half the TSF I don't think you'll be able to stop them. These credits will be enough to get you off world. From there I suggest you go to these coordinates. You go to the cantina there and ask for a Mon Calamari named Ph'zglwin and you tell him Jene Cyrus sent you. He'll take care of you all, you got it?"

He shoved the money and datapad into the bewildered officer's hands, who after a moment of hesitation nodded and gave him his thanks before starting for the door. Jene stopped him just as he was about to leave and told him, "Oh, and kid? You take real good care of them, or I will personally see to it that I finish what I started here. You got it?" The officer nodded quickly and exited the control room, with Jene leaving soon afterward.

Knowing his ship would have no trouble tracing the ion trails left by that gigantic starship, he entered the cramped cockpit of the _Black Sun_ and strapped himself in. He started up all the essential systems and performed a quick systems check to make sure no snooping port authority official had done some digging inside his Obliterator. All systems checked out, and he lifted the overlarge fighter out of the docking bay and away from Citadel Station. It took his tracker only a moment to locate the ion trails from the starship, and from them he got his coordinates: Kuat. He plotted the coordinates into his navicomputer and engaged the hyperdrive. All of space seemed to warp around the ship for a brief moment before he plunged into hyperspace, at which point he put all navigation on auto-pilot and disengaged the manual controls.

Jene leaned back in his seat and removed his black gloves, which he put in his lap, staring intently at the electrum ring he still wore on his finger. He was enthralled with its gleam in the unnatural light of hyperspace for but a moment before sighing heavily and leaning his head back in an attempt to get some rest on the journey to Kuat. He suspected that, as always, no sleep would come to him.

---------------------

There once was a time when he would have spent the entire journey in the medbay, observing his patient sand meticulously organizing all the supplies. But things had changed… Mical had changed.

Instead, he stood stoically behind Indy, who was seated in the pilot's seat, while he stared through the large window of the cockpit. He wasn't required in the medbay anyway, since Evy was sleeping soundly, with Tren hovering around her like a mother hen.

"Welcome to Kuat," Han announced with a grunt. He'd had his doubts about whether the_Centurion's Blade_ would even make it this far.

"It's beautiful," Rani said, entering the cramped space. She seemed the most entranced by the sight of the planet. Its deep green landmasses interspersed with turquoise seas were a stark contrast to the ring of metal machinery surrounding the planet.

"What's that stuff in the ring?" she asked, vaguely remembering reading something about the importance of Kuat.

"Shipyards," Mical answered, turning his back on the sight. The universe held little beauty or wonder to him anymore.

"The Kuat Drive Yards, the Republic gets most of their ships manufactured here," Indy filled in for the doctor.

"How are we going to stay hidden from the Republic here?" Rani asked, her brow creasing with worry.

"The surface of the planet itself does not have a large population, and Igrayne was born into the ruling family. We should be safe here, at least for a time." Bao-Dur stood in the doorway to the cockpit, his clothes stained with various machine fluids and his trusty hydrospanner in hand.

"So, Igrayne's old man is the king of this place?" Han asked, looking like he was really going to enjoy his stay on Kuat.

"No, her mother ruled," Bao corrected.

"Her mother?" Rani asked.

"The Kuati have a matriarchal society," the Zabrak answered.

"Sounds like my kind of planet," Indy said with a small smile. "Let's land and get in touch with that contact Igrayne told us about."

Mical nodded his acquiesce and then left the others in the cockpit to discuss plans. As he walked through the narrow corridor toward the medbay, he wished he could be more sensitive to his companions and their anxieties. It was the easiest to see Evy's apprehension as she struggled to heal from her frightful injury. But Trentyn constantly kept her mind occupied in her waking hours by telling her jokes and exchanging stories with her. He was taking his promise to Atton very seriously, caring for Evy with such commitment as if she was his love.

Indy and Han seemed the least concerned about their situation, but then again, they had each other and the overwhelming responsibility of keeping the _Centurion's Blade_ functional and running.

It seemed as though Rani had learned much from her run for the Telos Senate seat, as Mical, suffering from insomnia himself, would hear soft crying from her dorm room. But in the morning, she would put on her calm public face for the sake of her friends.

But strangely, it was perhaps Bao-Dur, the impassive Zabrak Jedi who carried the greatest burden of them all. He constantly worked on the maintenance of the ship, speaking and eating little. Mical even seriously wondered if the Zabrak rested at all during the journey to Kuat.

_He keeps himself busy, to try keep his mind off the woman he loves…as do I._

With that thought, Mical entered the medbay. Evy still lay sleeping in the medical cot while Tren rested his face in his hands, seated in a chair beside her. As soon as the young man spotted the doctor, he leapt to his feet.

"She's been sleeping so much. Is she going to be okay?" he asked, his usual smirk now nowhere to be found on his face.

Mical glanced down at Evy and noted with relief that her cheeks had a hint of rosiness to them.

"Her wound will take time to heal, but I think she is almost recovered from her blood loss. She's been resting a lot because her body needed a lot of energy to produce the blood to replace what she lost."

"But she'll be okay?"

"Yes, Trentyn, she'll be fine."

The young ex-Sith turned his attention back to the golden-haired woman, watching her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"We will be landing on Kuat soon. Ready yourself." Mical instructed.

---------------------------------

It was the most serene place in the universe. Carina would have sat in the lotus position, but her leg was not yet completely healed. Instead, she perched herself on the stone edge of the large pool, her eyes slightly unfocused. The water was cool and green. Light trickled down and made shifting patterns on the bottom. Ripples of gentle waves were formed from the force of the waterfall hitting the surface high above. Normally it was easier for her to keep her mind clear in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, but today nothing could prevent the disturbing thoughts from creeping into her mind.

The young padawan wondered why the Council's decision even affected her as much as it did. She hadn't been allowed inside the chamber while the Jedi Council discussed the recent tragedies on Citadel Station. Carina had been allowed inside, however, to hear their decision. Master Vrook's words still resounded in her head.

"After much deliberation, the Council has decided that aid, as well as investigators, will be sent to Telos. In addition, until we receive more information, we will not attack, nor will we assist the suspects of the bombing."

While Vrook delivered the decision, Kavar had avoided Carina's confused eyes. She knew as well as he and Bastila that the heroes tried to protect Telos, not destroy it, but apparently their knowledge had not been enough for the Council.

When the implications of the Council's decision dawned on Carina, she had been overwhelmed by her gut emotional response. She had struggled to stay composed, grasping on to the Force to quell her frustration and dismay. The last thing she wanted was to expose any weakness to the leaders of the Jedi who always seemed to be carefully watching her. There had only been one other person in that chamber who met Carina's gaze and held it—Bastila.

The tips of her toes almost touched the gently undulating water as she stopped fighting her thoughts and instead welcomed them. Carina didn't know why or how she knew, but she did know that those the Telosian media labeled "terrorists" needed help.

She leapt gracefully to her feet, grimacing only slightly at the pain in her leg. There was someone she had to talk to.

--------------------------------

"There's another ship in the vicinity."

"Uh, aren't there a lot of ships around here? I mean, the planet's surrounded by shipyards."

"Okay, Atton, let me rephrase that, there is a ship of interest in the vicinity," Captain Mithic replied.

"What do you mean of _interest_? I don't see anything on the radar," Igrayne replied from the co-pilot's seat. Her fingers hovered above the controls, ready to start the descending sequence.

"Look, I can just sense that there is a ship here that probably shouldn't be," Mithic responded.

"You sense it?" Igrayne asked, looking a bit surprised.

John Mithic said nothing, instead pretending to be very interested in the computer display in front of him. The cockpit fell silent, and Mithic could sense Igrayne gently manipulating the Force, reading it for signs of danger. Strangely, she did not direct it at him, and he suddenly realized she must have figured out his Force sensitivity. If she hadn't, she probably would not have hesitated to try to search around in his mind, but she didn't, as a matter of courtesy.

When she was finished, he looked up at the woman. Her dark eyes were readied on his face.

"I can sense it too, faint, but it is there."

Mithic nodded, happy with the fact that Igrayne was not demanding answers he was not sure he could give.

"Uh, did I miss something?" Atton said.

"I want you to transmit a message down to the central docking bay at the royal compound for me," Igrayne said to Atton, ignoring his question. "Tell them we're delaying our landing."

"What?!" Atton fumed. "So we're supposed to just float around up here until you two can find this _ghost_ ship?"

"You got it," Igrayne replied smartly. "I'm going to talk to the admiral."

The Jedi Knight left Mithic and Atton in the cockpit and headed toward the starboard dormitory. She slid into the room, the door closing silently behind her. The lights in the room were severely dimmed. A low grunt followed by a masculine whimper caught her attention, and she turned her head toward one of the beds.

"Carth? Are you okay?"

As her voice permeated the room, Igrayne suddenly felt like she was not welcome. She could see the outline of his figure as he stood up from his lounge on the bed. His breathing was irregular, ragged even as he took slightly limping steps toward her.

"Are you hurt?" she said with concern, swallowing the lump in her throat and taking a halting step toward him.

"Would you even care enough to heal me?" he answered as he swung his arm toward her, gripping the start of her thick braid of hair.

Damn that Onasi resemblance! It wasn't Carth at all; it was Dustil.

"Dustil, your wounds are far too deep for me to heal," she answered, ignoring the hammering of her heart.

He laughed a short, guttural sound from the back of his throat. "You don't care; nobody does."

Her dark eyes adjusted to the lack of light, and they swept his face unabashedly. She felt a trickle of fear, but it was accompanied by a sort of exhilaration. His eyes were shielded by a dangerous glint, protecting his vulnerabilities, and his jaw was clenched, the muscles quivering slightly with the exertion.

"You know that's not true, Dustil," she answered, her voice so soft, yet carrying an admonishment.

"Oh yes, my father…the great Admiral Carth Onasi! Yes, he has found time to _care_ about me in between stints to save the Republic, right?" As he said this, he gripped her hair harder and used his other hand to grab her forearm, pulling her closer to him.

Igrayne's initial impulse was to defend Carth's love for his son, but then she realized Dustil knew his father loved him, perhaps more than anything or anyone else in the galaxy. In truth, Dustil's main problem was no longer about forgiving his father, but forgiving himself. All of a sudden, she felt sympathy for this tormented young man. She knew how it felt to be haunted by past deeds.

"Answer me! I have the love and acceptance of my father and now everything should be okay again, right?!"

The untrammeled pain in his eyes frightened Igrayne just as it fascinated her. She did not know what force controlled her hands as they softened and traveled up from their prior resting spot on his chest to the angles of his face. His dark whiskers scraped her palms, and his grip on her did not lessen, but she did not care. She pushed up onto her tip toes, resting one arm heavily on his shoulder for balance, her lips rising up to his.

"You will learn, Dustil, that love is complicated."

Dustil Onasi needed no more invitation than that. His grip on her hair and forearm only tightened as he yanked her against his body and leaned his face down toward her. She turned her face up, responding to him. He took a second to hungrily stare at her features, her pale skin faintly luminescent in the dark, her large, dark eyes wide almost as if in fear, but Dustil could sense the longing in her. It was so different than the time when she was his captive; then her eyes had been filled with disgust and spite.

Finally, he dipped down to kiss her. As soon as their lips touched, their mouths opened, hasty to forget everything outside the insistent mating of their tongues. He gripped her so hard that it should have hurt her, but instead she felt awakened, alive. Everything else felt so far away as she welcomed his unrelenting feast of her mouth.

--------------------

Carina didn't know Bastila Shan very well, but as she waited impatiently outside of one of the training rooms, she mulled over just how much the two of them had in common. Both Jedi women were brash, even impulsive at times, often saying and sometimes doing things they wouldn't normally do had they been in a calm state of mind. And even as Carina felt the overwhelming pressure to succeed, to prove herself to be a worthy Jedi, it was apparent Bastila also felt this. Yet both women found themselves yearning for more than the life of a Jedi could give. The desire to be loved, to _belong_, that desire burned in both women's hearts.

Her current train of thought was beginning to depress her, and she was also anxious to speak with Bastila. Carina entered the training room surreptitiously, stalking in and deciding to watch from a distance. This particular training room contained several dueling circles, and Bastila fought with another Jedi whose back was to Carina in the furthest circle from her position.

The most fighting Carina had participated in (that she could remember) was during the mayhem after the bomb went off in the Ithorian compound on Telos. It was a different experience than the young padawan had expected. It was messier, rougher than the practice duels she'd participated in. And there was a sort of satisfaction in the head-to-head fighting of duels, but Carina had found no such satisfaction in the killing she had been forced to do during the attack.

Carina's striking green eyes studied the Jedi. Bastila held her arms out in front of her, her knees bent slightly in the Echani fighting stance. Strands of deep brown hair slipped from her plait, framing her determined face. Her eyes were bright grey and mirrored her focus. It was when Carina studied the woman's appearance and her tensed body toned from hours of exhaustive training that she realized just how dedicated Bastila was to the Jedi Order.

Bastila and her Jedi opponent began to circle one another, each waiting for the other to attack. Carina let her attention drift to the male Jedi. He wore loose tan pants, but he was shirtless, and being a young woman, Carina couldn't help but study his well-formed torso. As the two continued to circle one another, Carina's eyes would not leave the shirtless man. Soon, Bastila's back was toward her, and she could now see the face of the opponent; it was Kavar.

_Master_ Kavar.

Carina dropped her eyes immediately, embarrassed at the warming responses her body was having to the sight of his. She'd spent many hours with him, even seen him shirtless before, but watching him train with someone else cast him in an entirely new light. Carina thought about leaving the room, but she was too spellbound by the sight in front of her. Besides, the other two Jedi were currently too focused on their training duel to notice her on the far side of the room.

She watched as Bastila charged first, leaping toward Kavar with a simultaneous kick. He reacted in time, blocking her foot with his forearm, and countering with a swift swing with his other arm. Bastila gracefully tucked her head down and rolled out of the way, back on her feet in a flash. This time Kavar attacked, and he was upon her just as quickly as she recovered her feet, with a flurry of arm movements. Most were blocked, though a few found their mark. Bastila interrupted his assault with a quick low punt to his leg, causing him to fall backward to the floor. As Kavar arched his back and jumped back to his feet, Bastila held back for a second, using the momentary respite to catch her breath.

The duel went on, and Carina began to feel more and more like she was spying on them. The fight just seemed so personal, as their eyes never left each other. Not only was the Echani duel physical, it was emotional, even Carina could see that. A flare of jealousy arose in her. Kavar was _her_ master and she was his padawan, not Bastila. Her teeth gritted as she watched the duel get more intense, Bastila landing a hefty kick to Kavar's abs. Carina had to clench her fists at her sides try to squeeze out the envy that crept into her limbs. It was she who should be dueling with Kavar. She should be the one he would go to when trying to get his mind off things.

Finally, with one last surge of jealousy from Carina, the duel ended, Kavar pinning Bastila to the floor, his muscled arms holding her shoulders down while his legs tangled with hers.

The room was quiet for a few moments, the only sounds being the tired panting of Bastila and Kavar. Carina felt embarrassed, and yet she felt the need to make her presence known before she witnessed something she feared to see. Kavar's head bowed toward the floor and Carina froze. But her fear and jealously was unfounded. The master lifted himself from Bastila, helping her up in the process.

"Good fighting, Bastila."

"Obviously not good enough," she said in between breaths, pushing her now damp locks out of her face.

"Considering that your mind was not completely focused on the duel, I'd say you performed well," Kavar answered, donning a shirt.

"You noticed that?" she questioned, her silvery eyes narrowing.

"Bastila, the Council made their decision. We must accept it."

"But we know they weren't behind the bombings! Now they're out in space somewhere, running and hiding for their _lives_."

"It is a shame, but there is little we can do until we can get more information. Look, Bastila, they can take care of themselves. They saved the galaxy; they can certainly stay hidden for awhile."

"No, Master Kavar, the shame is that these people, these heroes, are now merely trying to survive in the galaxy which they've done nothing but protect!"

"Bastila! You are letting your attachments to those people interfere with logical thought. We will do as the Council has ordered."

"Of course _you_ will, Master. After all, you know that if _she_ finds all her friends again, well, then she may just regain her memory."

"Enough, Jedi Bastila!" Kavar roared. Bastila merely leaned back against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest with a self-satisfied smile. She'd touched on the truth, and she knew it.

Emboldened by the information revealed to her, Carina stepped away from the wall, making her presence known. "Is this true? They were my friends?"

Kavar turned to look at her face. He didn't meet her emerald eyes, and he instead pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a bad headache coming on.

Finding only silence from her master, Carina looked to Bastila. "Is it true?"

The stunning Jedi stared back at Carina. Not a word left her gently parted lips, but Carina had her answer.

"Then I am going to them."

"Padawan, you will do no such thing," Kavar said, breaking his silence.

"You can't stop me," she said, jutting out her chin in a challenge.

"As long as you are a part of the Jedi Order, you will follow my commands," he said, his deep-set blue eyes demanding authority.

"Then I will leave the Jedi," Carina retorted, meeting his gaze with just as much intensity.

A red flush crept up Kavar's neck, evidence of his anger.

"There is no need, I will accompany you, Carina," Bastila interrupted, moving to her side.

"Don't encourage her," Kavar warned.

"And why not? Why should we disallow her this simple request? She asks to aid her friends, who happen to be strong allies to the Republic. We, the Jedi, have stripped her of every last remnant of her identity. You will not allow her to be anything but your padawan."

"You know what she did…what she became. It is our responsibility to keep that from happening again, Bastila!"

"And you think keeping her away from everything she ever knew or loved will do that? No, Master, that will only fuel the darkness inside of her if you deny her this."

Kavar and Bastila stared at one another as if playing some invisible battle of wills. Carina let every word sink into her skull and found that each answer only brought more questions.

Apparently, Bastila won this battle, because Kavar gave into the request.

"All right…but all three of us are going. The Council will not like it, but I can convince them to allow it," Kavar said.

"I will begin preparations immediately," Bastila said curtly, excusing herself.

As soon as they were alone, Carina suddenly found herself feeling shy. She had expected more of a fight from her master than this, but she was not complaining.

"Thank you," she finally said, the harshness now gone from her voice.

"That isn't necessary."

"I know, but I mean it…you…you didn't have to do this."

"Really? Because by the way you were talking, you had me fooled," Kavar said, frustration slinking into his tone.

Carina chuckled, and it surprised Kavar. He stared at her, feeling some of the tension swept away by her happiness. Without thinking, she hugged him quickly, and as she was pulling away, she brushed her lips past his in a brief kiss. Then she left, her lips tingling pleasantly from the contact.

_I'm only doing this for you_, Kavar thought as he watched his padawan leave.

---------------

They all were given a luxurious room in the guest quarters of the royal compound. Indy and Han had elected to share a room, but Rani, Bao-Dur, Mical, Trentyn, and Evy each got their own private rooms. Evy was very thankful for that. As much as she loved the company of her friends, she needed a bit of solitude. She had begun to feel healthy again (besides the gash in her side) and she was finally allowed a bit of time to think about her life and about Atton.

If there was one thing she absolutely knew, it was that she loved him and he loved her. Lack of love for one another was never their problem. The issue was a difference in personality and expectations for the relationship. Evy knew Atton, and she knew him well. She was sure that when he had said he was willing to do anything to keep her in his life, he had meant it. But would his feelings change when he saw her again? This was Evy's worry.

She rubbed her eyes vigorously, knowing she should be trying to get some rest, but she did not want to lose any more time to sleep. Too much was going on, and her mind was too full of thoughts she needed time to sort out. Evy cherished a measure of order in all areas of her life, and if she wanted to be helpful to her companions, she had to clear her mind.

There were common refresher facilities that several guest rooms shared, but Evy couldn't shower anyway. She couldn't get her fresh bandage wet, which would increase the risk of infection. Instead, her room had a large tub in the corner, which was made of some sort of polished stone. A bath, if even a shallow one, sounded extremely appealing to her at the moment.

Sitting up from the bed, she gingerly unbuttoned her shirt and took her loose trousers off. In her underwear, she headed over to the bathtub, studying the buttons at one end of the tub. She fingered the edge of her bandage at her side absentmindedly as she touched the buttons, trying to figure out the controls.

"Hey kitten, nice outfit."

Evy jumped backward, immediately hiding herself behind some tied up drapes that were meant to provide a measure of privacy for a bather.

"Tren! Don't you ever knock?" she shrieked, feeling embarrassed.

"If this is the view I'll be rewarded with, I don't think I'll never knock again!"

Evy attempted to glare at Tren, which was difficult considering the fact she was furiously blushing.

"Oh, come on, kitten. I've seen my share of naked women; it's not a big deal…"

"It is to me! Now get out!" she ordered, allowing wavy strands of golden hair to fall into her face. Anything to help hide her from Tren was fine with her.

"Nah, I think I'll stay and keep an _eye_ on you," he said, winking and making himself comfortable on her bed.

"Don't you have any shame?" Evy demanded, not all that surprised that he was being so difficult.

"No, not really. Not when it comes to you and me and being naked."

"Oh Force! You're terrible!" she said, flustered and frustrated.

"Thanks," Tren said with his infuriating grin. "I always knew you had a thing for bad boys."

Evy still stood behind the drapes, but Tren's last comment gave her an idea. "Hey Tren, how do you think Atton would feel about you treating me like this?"

The handsome blue-eyed man rested his chin in his hand as if in deep thought. "Well, Atton did tell me to look after you as if you were _my_ love."

"I seriously doubt this is what he meant," Evy reproved him.

Trentyn went back to smiling and dismounted her bed to begin walking toward her. She was already feeling a bit flustered considering the situation, and her heart just beat faster.

"Tren…" she began as he got closer. But instead of touching her, he reached out and pushed a button on the bathtub. Steaming water began bubbling into the tub.

"I'm guessing you don't want to get your bandage wet," Tren said, his angular eyes still on her face.

Evy nodded slightly in answer. Tren smiled, kinder this time, and eyed the water level in the tub, finally pushing it to stop the influx of warm water. It was silent for a few moments, and then Tren looked at her again.

"Well, uh…thank…thank you," Evy said, trying to maintain her dignity.

The young man smiled again, this time apologetically, before heading toward the door.

"Have a nice bath, kitten," he said over his shoulder before the door swished closed behind him.

Evy stayed standing behind the protective drapes, staring at the closed door that Tren had just left from. He was so infuriatingly…attractive? Evy blanched at the thought, even more embarrassed by it than by Tren's free view of her body. She was thankful for him, for the relationship, for the _friendship_ they shared. In her eyes, he was also important to her because he was important to Atton.

Finally satisfied that Tren wouldn't come prancing back into her room uninvited, Evy untied the ropes around the drapes. They fell in around the bathtub like a cocoon. She slipped inside the small area it enclosed and removed her black underclothes. As soon as she got into the bathwater, she began to feel the tension flee her mind. Trentyn had accurately set the water level, as it was a couple inches below her bandage while she lounged. As long as she did not disturb the water too much, her bandage would safely stay dry.

Eventually, her thoughts returned to Atton. Bao-Dur had asked the docking authorities to inform them whenever the_Sunbeam_ showed up, even if it was the middle of the night. Evy let her fingers slide through her long, damp hair as she wondered what her scoundrel was doing at this very moment. She hoped he was playing Pazaak with Mithic or, even better, she hoped he was strapped in, waiting for the ship to dock on Kuat. She smiled, closing her eyes and holding on to her positive thoughts while enjoying the heated water.

This time, she heard her door swish open.

_Why didn't I lock it?!_ Evy fumed as she took in a deep breath to yell. She heard heavy footsteps coming toward her.

"Trentyn Taraster, if you do not stop walking in on me, I swear I will—"

The protective drapes drawn around the tub were pulled back forcefully, and Evy struggled to shield her nakedness with her arms. She looked up at the intruder and gasped. It was a man in full armor. She shivered with fear and embarrassment, unsure of what to do. She was weaponless, defenseless, and stark naked.

"Who are you and what do you want?" she asked, unable to stand the fact she couldn't see where the man's eyes were directed with his helmet on.

The man seemed frozen, as if he'd walked into a surprise.

"Where's the holocron?" the armored man asked, his voice sounding metallic as it filtered through the helmet.

_Holocron? The clay thing Indy had?_ Evy hadn't even seen it since Indy had moved from Carth's to Mical's apartment when they were on Telos.

Suddenly, the man leaned over and yanked Evy to a standing position. His movements were stiff, but strong.

"What do you want from me?!" she cried, her arms pinned at her sides. If the man wanted to, he could see anything he desired.

"That holocron…and maybe a bit of revenge…" he said, his declaration followed by a chuckle.

"Get your hands off her!"

Evy recognized Tren's voice immediately, and he sounded furious. The armored man threw Evy back down into her tub, and she cried out as pain shot through her side. He swiveled around to face Tren, his hand at his hip to pull out a blaster. Evy froze when she saw Trentyn. He had murder in his eyes as he stalked toward the other man. His steps were long and swift, and his fists were balled at his sides. A stab of terror hit Evy when she realized Trentyn was completely unarmed, as he was dressed for bed.

"No!" she cried, her hands reaching out to the armored man's gloved hand as he gripped his blaster.

Tren was reaching out to grab the man when the bolt hit him in the upper chest. He staggered backward a few steps before falling to the ground. Completely ignoring everything else, Evy launched herself out of the tub, dashing to Tren. She fell to her knees next to him, all modesty forgotten as she covered the steaming wound with both of her hands.

"No Tren! Listen to me! Don't leave me!" Evy's voice was hoarse as she struggled to keep his failing attention. The wound was too grievous. Tren's lips moved slightly, but no sound issued from them. His eyes fluttered as if he was trying his hardest to keep them open.

"Tren," she choked out. The wound was so hot it seemed to be burning her hands, but she did not remove her touch from him. She leaned down, touching her forehead to his and staring into his shadowed eyes. She couldn't even begin to tell him everything he meant to her, so she settled for staring into his eyes. It was the closest she'd ever been to him, so close that his eyes filled her entire frame of vision, like a blue sea darkening in the dimming sunlight. She knew the armored man was now beside her, and she knew he was about to knock her unconscious, but nothing seemed to matter.

-----------------

Carina was exhilarated about the coming journey; she was almost shaking as she packed her essentials. Kavar was speaking with the other Council members while Bastila was setting up everything else for their mission. Carina was anxious to see the heroes again because it was her chance at clearing away all that shrouded her past. And it was her chance at acceptance. She was a good padawan, with sturdy fighting skills and a good grasp of the Force, but still she sensed that no matter how much she excelled, she would always be a bit of an outsider in the Jedi Order.

Soon, Bastila walked in through the door, dressed in traveling raiment that wasn't of the Jedi style. Carina raised her eyebrow in a silent question.

"Well, we don't want to be obvious, do we?" Bastila said, looking disapprovingly at Carina's padawan robes.

Carina sighed, not hesitating to eschew her robes and begin tugging on trousers and a fitted shirt. Bastila ignored Carina's lack of modesty, and continued talking.

"The ship and all our supplies are all in order. Since we don't know how long it'll take us to find them, we've brought plenty of food and credits."

Now dressed, Carina pulled back her hair in a ponytail. "So, uh, where are we going to start looking for them?"

"Actually, Master Kavar and I were discussing this very question with the Council. We've come up with a list of possible planets where they would try to hide out, but we need knowledge of the _underground_ places."

"Underground? As in tunnels or something?" Carina asked as she donned a deep green jacket over her tight shirt.

"No, Carina, underground as in places that people who don't want to be found go to."

"Oh, I understand now…so do we know about any of these places?"

"No, which is why we've found a possible guide."

"Who is he?" Carina asked.

"_She_ used to be a soldier in the Republic. From what I've heard, she does quite a bit of planet-hopping and knows about those sorts of places."

"And how does she know that?"

"Apparently…she gambles."

-------------------------

It was the seediest, dirtiest cantina Bastila had ever set foot in. Beside her, Carina wrinkled her nose in distaste, obviously not pleased by the foul odor of the place.

"Isn't there some sort of Force trick to block out that smell?!" the candid Padawan complained.

"Yes, in fact, there is," Kavar said, raising his eyebrows and smiling briefly before leading the two female Jedi to the Pazaak room.

The room consisted of one long table down the center of it, with several smaller two-person tables along the periphery. Most of the lights were broken, and the few that worked sometimes flickered on and off distractingly. To call the room "dingy" would have been misleading. In all honesty, it was downright dilapidated and depressing.

In one of the few chairs that were intact, a woman sat engrossed in a Pazaak game with a Devaronian male, who gently touched the end of one of his horns while he contemplated his next move. The woman, on the other hand, stared intensely at her opponent, a look burning with intimidation. Bastila knew as soon as she saw the woman that this was the guide they were searching for. It was easy to tell that although she was comfortable in such a place, she didn't really belong.

Kavar apparently recognized her as the one they had heard about, too, because he promptly approached the table.

"Trinn DeRay?"

The woman turned her head toward Kavar, giving him the full force of her intimidating glare.

"I'm in a middle of a game here, you mind?" The words were fairly polite, but her tone was anything but.

The master said nothing but took a step back, allowing the woman to finish her game of Pazaak. Bastila stood silently behind Kavar, obviously annoyed by the gambler's behavior, while Carina peeked around Kavar's shoulder, curious to study their possible guide.

"I think she'll work out," Carina whispered to Bastila optimistically.

"We have little choice either way. The more time we lose, the less chance we have at finding them," Bastila answered.

Soon the game was over. Trinn had won, though they must not have wagered much because the small bag the Devaronian tossed to her seemed to have little in it. She pocketed the bag and then stood to face the three Jedi.

Bastila tried not to take a step back. The woman was tall, slightly taller than Kavar, who himself was at least six-foot. It was easy to see she had been a soldier, and a capable one at that. She was sturdily built, and Bastila severely doubted anyone ever tried to pick a fight with the woman. Even though she was tall and appeared very strong, she still looked unashamedly feminine. Her clothes were mostly conservative, except for the skin-tight shirt with a plunging neckline she wore under her ebony jacket that hung open. She had light brunette locks that were pulled back into a ponytail that fell to the middle of her back, and sky blue eyes that drew attention. Although she was more striking than she was pretty, there was a measure of hard beauty about her that was unmistakable.

"I'm willing to bet you three aren't here for a hand of Pazaak," she said, stowing her deck in a bag she tossed over her shoulder.

"How'd you know that?" Carina asked.

"Jedi don't gamble," she answered. "I would ask you how you found me and how you know my name, but I'm really not in the mood to hear about your Jedi tricks."

Bastila wasn't too impressed by the woman's ability to recognize them as Jedi, but she was pleased with how capable the woman appeared. The attitude was trying, but Bastila guessed it was necessary if one lived a life such as Trinn DeRay did.

"Yes, we are Jedi, and we are here to request your help on an important mission," Kavar said, getting straight to the point.

"Not interested," Trinn answered immediately.

"Look, we need someone who has knowledge about places that people go when they are hiding from the government," Bastila added.

"Oh, well, did I mention that I don't give a damn?" Trinn said.

"There will be payment for your services," Kavar said, stepping to the side to block her way out.

"I make enough money on my own. Now I suggest you get out of my way."

"It would be a great help to the Republic. You would be doing something honorable," Bastila offered, trying to find a way to appeal to the woman.

"I'm done dealing with the Republic, and I'm definitely done trusting Jedi, and I'm perfectly satisfied with my current profession, thank you very much."

"Oh, yeah, I can tell, I mean you are just radiating happiness," Carina blurted out sarcastically.

Trinn DeRay turned her dangerous glare to the padawan, looking very much like she'd like to shoot Carina.

"Come on, she's not going to help us. Let her get back to her fulfilling life of being a wandering gambler," Carina said to Bastila and Kavar while meeting Trinn's glare.

The three Jedi walked to the corner, discussing plans while Trinn stayed rooted to the spot, watching them.

"We can't make her want to help us, so just forget it. We'll do it on our own," Carina said.

"It will take us longer to find them, but we can do it," Bastila said, trying to encourage Carina.

"They're a capable bunch, and with Admiral Carth Onasi leading them, I'm sure they'll be fine for the time being," Kavar added.

The three Jedi fell silent for a few moments, each realizing how much harder their mission would be without a guide.

"I'll do it."

The Jedi all simultaneously looked at Trinn, who'd approached them.

"Let's negotiate the price," she continued, secretly satisfied by their surprised expressions.

Bastila and Carina excitedly chatted in the corner while Kavar sat at a small table with Trinn. She pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her bag and wrote something on it. She folded the paper and slid it over to Kavar's side of the table. He lifted it and read it.

"This is my price, take it or leave it," Trinn stated with finality.

Kavar raised his eyebrows. "This is an interesting choice of payment."

"So, can it be done?" she asked.

"We'll try," Kavar said, folding the paper and holding it.

"That's good enough for me. Now let's get going."

---------------------------

As soon as Evy opened her eyes, she didn't even look around to see where she was. Her eyes were trained on the ceiling, and she was lying down, her hands and feet in restraints. Her head throbbed dully, and she wasn't sure if it was because of the blow she received from the armored man or if it was a result of her emotional turmoil.

Cold tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes, dribbling down her temples and into her hairline. She couldn't even sob, so she lied there, silent in her misery. As a nurse, she knew no one could survive the injury Tren had sustained from the bolt. So when she saw his smiling face peering over her, she thought she was dreaming at first. Her vision was blurred by tears, but she couldn't wipe them away with her hands in restraints.

"Tren?" Her voice was soft, and it cracked slightly with emotion.

"Hey, kitten, you've got to be quiet, okay? I'm gonna try to get you out of here."

"Oh, Force, Tren, you're alive!" Evy was so relieved she forgot about being quiet.

"Shhh," he warned, placing a finger to her lips. "We're not exactly in a great place right now."

Evy picked her head up off the hard cart her body had been laid on, looking around the room. It looked like they were in a cargo hold of some sort.

"Please tell me we aren't on a ship."

Trentyn said nothing, and instead helped her to a sitting position, and then he took her wrists into his hands to study the restraints. Evy was happy to see she had been dressed. They were dirty clothes, but at least they covered her.

"I think I can get these off, but I'll need to find some tools," he said.

Evy couldn't help but smile while staring down at Tren, who was still in his bedclothes. "You've got to let me look at that wound," she said after looking at the blackened area of his shirt where he had been shot.

"I'd love to take my shirt off for you, but there is no wound."

"What? How?"

Tren looked up at her and something strange flitted through his eyes. "You healed me, kitten."

Evy stared at him openmouthed, realizing he was telling the truth. She'd begun to think that when she'd healed Atton during the Battle of Dantooine it was just an isolated event. She had no idea her amazing healing powers would ever be manifested again.

"Okay, listen to me, this isn't a huge ship, but it's big enough to have a smaller transport ship in their docking bay. I snuck onto the transport as it was leaving with you, and it came here. It's not a Sith vessel, but it seems like the only two people on the ship are our helmeted perv friend and a woman he calls Caine. I haven't been brave enough to get a good look at her, but I've been sneaking around the ship, and I've heard them talking."

"What have you found out?" Evy asked.

"They were involved with Czerka, and apparently they fought with us after the bombing on Telos. I'm not sure exactly what they want, but they don't like any of us 'terrorists,' and metal-head attacked you because yours was the only door that was unlocked. Other than that…"

"He asked me for the holocron," Evy said, surprised she even remembered considering the frightfulness of the situation.

"Holocron?"

"Yeah, I think he was referring to the clay one Indy had."

Tren sighed and stood up. "Well, I have to get you off this ship."

"Tren, please, don't leave me," Evy begged softly. She didn't know why she had such a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

----------------------

Bao-Dur stared out the panoramic viewport at the scores of ships docked in KDY's official shipyard—a variety of different transports, from assault ships to star cruisers and freighters to sovereign-class dreadnoughts. Here was where Kuat Drive Yards made most of its money, building and exporting ships chassis to vendors across the galaxy.

His thoughts settled on Czerka Corporation. Shortly before their expulsion from Telos, he had heard mention of KDY's sponsorship of Jana Lorso's campaign against Rani and the Ithorians. Czerka, a natural moneymaker, settled for tossing bribes whichever way they pleased in an effort to get extra funding—ironically, none of which was put toward the revitalization of Telos's atmosphere. Bao-Dur practically sneered with disdain. Leave it to Czerka to lobby for support from a corporation with the broadest sphere of influence.

And Igrayne lived among the Kuati. She was born and bred in the shadow of KDY's black market, and all this she had conveniently left out of her life story when they became embroiled in the plot on Telos. The life of their Force bond, though strong, seemed to be lessening in potency with each day.

He gazed out the window at the gloomy backdrop. Igrayne's homeworld was less than visually appealing, but the way in which she had spoken so highly of it to him right before they had parted ways made him think that maybe there was more here than met the eye. He found himself wishing Igrayne was here to explore it with him and share with him all of her cherished childhood memories. But the Jedi was far away, beyond his reach, and he could do little to contact her at this point.

Bao-Dur's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door mechanism unlocking. Mical entered in a set of spare robes the Kuati had loaned him—the sorry state of his other dirtier, tattered medical robes made him a frightful sight around the royal compound, where cleanliness and order reigned supreme. Though the doctor wasn't as meticulous about his appearance, what with his bristly whiskers having blossomed into a full beard, he accepted the spare set of clothes without complaint, seeing as they'd be his last before they reached whatever destination they were bound for.

"Have you summoned Tren yet?"

"There was no response when I knocked at his door, nor at Evy's," Mical explained, his features betraying worry. Bao-Dur meditated on this before answering.

"We're meeting with Pruak now. We can't delay the meeting any longer. It's not as if we have the luxury of time."

"You sense something."

"It is difficult to tell whether I derive my caution from an apparent danger or the chaos we've all been through. I must reflect on it to learn more."

"Well, don't reflect on it too long. You said yourself it wouldn't be wise to delay the meeting."

Bao-Dur turned away from him and instead settled on watching the overall-clad technicians down in the workbay, compiling their newest commission from the overlord of KDY.

"The Kuati have a very strict sense of custom. And to them, arriving late is an unforgivable offense. So I suggest we adhere to the custom…if only for today."

"Good plan."

The Zabrak and the human exited the apartment with a notable amount of caution. While Mical palmed the lock, Rani emerged from the adjacent apartment complex looking very tired and haggard. Her appearance was such a striking contrast to the one of the woman who held the podium the day she battled with Jana Lorso for control of the Telos Restoration Project. On that day, her features had been placid, even serene, but today they were overshadowed by a much heavier emotion.

"Are you ready to go?" Bao-Dur asked, his Jedi robes swirling about the muscular build of his body.

"Yes…I…I think so."

The three of them set off side by side, and they were joined by Han and Indy shortly after.

The matriarchal system was nowhere more apparent than in the royal compound, where scores of demurely-clad women roamed the halls, staring at the new arrivals. The presence of the Zabrak and the two human males seemed, at most, out of place, and they made them painfully aware of this fact by the way they fell to gossiping behind the palms of their hands. Rani merely rolled her eyes, refusing to be goaded into a fight.

They entered the nearby room—a small library, or archive of some sort—and kept in a tight formation. The man standing to the far left corner was obviously interrupted by their appearance, or so the scowl he wore upon his face told them.

"Pruak, I presume?" Mical asked.

The gruff man was a sharp contrast to the feminine beauty of the young servants surrounding him. Yet the more the heroes studied the young, nubile women beside him, the more they realized they were not servants, but councilors of some kind. They scurried about the room, checking the archives for items of information to commit to their datapads.

"What in the galaxy's name do you want?"

Rani, Mical, Han, and Indy exchanged incredulous glances. The Kuati weren't exactly known for being warm and welcoming, but the downright hostility had taken them off guard. They had expected at least a measure of civility after their long, arduous journey from Telos.

"We were told you might be of service to us."

"And why ever would I do such a thing?" Pruak said as his eyebrow lifted while assessing each of them.

"General Igrayne sent us," Bao-Dur interrupted, his low voice barely emanating any kind of emotion. Pruak's head snapped instinctively.

"Igrayne?"

"You know her?"

"Of course I know her. Her family formed part of a coalition of the Kuati ruling houses for a time. That was before they were unceremoniously deposed."

"We need some place to stay. Someplace safe," Rani interrupted. "The Republic is searching for us because…well, because we were framed for something we didn't do."

Pruak cackled as if she had said something particularly funny, though Rani failed to find the joke in it.

"I'm sorry, I don't hoard escapees, convicts, or other space scum. If I were you, I'd pay a smuggler a high fee to get you off planet with his next shipment, instead of nosing around here where you're likely to be found."

"Igrayne said you would help us," Rani said imploringly, her voice and tone silent, entreating.

"I haven't seen Igrayne in years," the old man growled. "After her parents died, Kuat experienced some of her bleakest years. Trade and commerce continued, but the ruling families began battling each other for dominance. It wasn't long before they tore each other to pieces. Now they have some sort of temporary alliance—if only for the sake of keeping KDY successful—but who knows how long it'll hold. Not long, if some of the royals' ambitions get the best of them."

"You said her parents died?" Indy asked.

"Yeah," Pruak said, wiping his runny nose on a burly arm peppered with light brown hair. "In a ship explosion down at the local dockyard. Too convenient, if you ask me. Probably one of the royals, hatching a scheme to wrest control of Kuat."

"I'm so sorry," Rani answered, knowing she didn't want to be the one to have to deliver this news. The unreadable look on Bao-Dur's face told her he must have been busy divining ways to do just that.

"Their fate was sealed a long time ago. Anyone who takes the throne here doesn't last long. There are far too many political agendas being exacted in seedy cantinas and alleyways. Many hire go-betweens—if you know what I mean—to carry out their dirty business for them. Strong heads, weak hearts. When it comes down to it, they just don't have the gall to get their hands dirty."

"Not all politicians are like that," Rani stressed, slightly annoyed by the generalization the man had made. "Some rely on honesty and goodness instead of lies and deceit to get them where they are."

"Sure. Whatever you say."

"Look," Mical said, wresting control of the situation before Rani had the chance to shoot back a smart remark that would lose them control of their tenuous situation, "Can you help us or not?"

"Depends on what your lives are worth to you," Pruak said, clearly eager to barter for a generous conclusion to the trade. "Ten thousand, fifty thousand credits? Or more?"

"We have nothing to give you. All our possessions were taken from us," Rani interjected.

"More's the pity, then."

"Wait," Indy said, stepping forward hesitantly. Her brown eyes blinked back uncertainty as she said, "There is something…"

Han caught her wrist and swung her around. His voice dropped to a low whisper.

"No—you can't! You know what those Sith would do for it, and you're just going to hand it over to this wiseacre?"

"Just trust me, Han, I have a plan."

He released her from his grip, but not before she seared him with a cold stare.

"All right. I don't like it, but all right."

----------------------

Atton reached into his vest for his spare deck of Pazaak cards, fanning them out on the table in the main hold of the _Sunbeam_. He arranged the cards into pairs and suits, and then he began playing against an imaginary opponent for lack of anything better to do. Mithic suspected he was only trying to get his mind off the long flight to Kuat, as they all were.

He walked up to Atton and took a seat at the table, eliciting a raised eyebrow and cynical expression from the smart-aleck pilot.

"You here for a heart-to-heart or something? Because, yeah, I believe in being close with your crewmates and all, but I'm not about to get all touchy-feely with you, Mithic."

"No, Atton, I'm here to play. Deal me a hand," Mithic challenged, his expression completely stoic and calm. The scoundrel rolled his eyes and wedged himself back into his seat, making himself comfortable as he casually flipped the cards from one hand to the other in an impressive display.

"Well, you know, you look like you could use a good dosage of defeat, so who am I to argue?"

"Just deal the cards, please."

"Fine by me."

Atton shuffled the cards and began dealing. His first card was a one, while Mithic's was notably higher—a four. Atton tried not to let that fact bother him as he continued making small talk.

"So, you two find your ghost ship yet?"

"No, but that's not to say we won't."

"You know," Atton began, "I never understood your type. Always optimistic, despite the lack of results. Don't you ever learn to just give up?"

Atton turned over a two, while Mithic's was a six. By now, the scoundrel was beginning to sweat. He attributed it to nothing other than sheer, dumb luck. He never lost a hand at Pazaak, and he wasn't about to.

Several hands later, and Mithic's score was brought up to a perfect, even twenty, while Atton had to stand at seventeen. The scoundrel loudly cursed, ridding the player's table of its cards with one sweep of the arm.

"Why would I give up when the odds are in my favor?"

"How'd you do that?" Atton said accusatorily. "Those cards…it was like magic. Were you cheating? Nobody beats me at Pazaak."

"Not anymore," Mithic said with self-satisfaction in his voice.

"You did this before." Atton rudely pointed a finger in his face. "Back there…with the ship. You sensed something. You're one of them, aren't you?"

"Them?"

"Yeah, the Jedi."

"Not exactly," Mithic said, purposefully evasive.

"Look, not like you're whole cryptic routine surprises me much now that I know who you are, but can you cut the crap for once and answer my questions?"

"It seems we have more in common than you previously thought," Mithic said.

Atton smiled.

"I know we're both good-looking guys and all, but—"

"Not what I'm talking about, Atton."

The scoundrel crossed both boots on the table in front of him.

"Oh, you mean…that."

"The Force sensitivity."

Atton's eyes flashed with anger in an instant.

"Look, that part of my life's not something I like to talk about, so don't go spreading that around for the others to find out."

"They'll find out sooner or later, Atton."

"Not if you don't tell them," he said with just a hint of menace in his voice.

"Right. Fine."

Mithic stood up and folded his cards in the deck before walking back toward the cockpit to help Admiral Onasi with his piloting duties. Atton scowled, watching after him, hoping the captain had the good sense enough not to go publicly announcing the fact that he, too, had felt the stirrings of the Force inside of him. That was a secret had had cautiously guarded for far too long for it to be suddenly stripped from him.

-------------------

Mithic entered the cockpit and slid down into the seat. Carth's focus was fixed on the viewport, on a slow, moving star at the edge of his vision. The vast nebula of stars in the interstellar space beyond this suspicious one was all strangely still. Mithic watched the admiral with concern.

"Admiral, what is it?"

"Looks like your ship's arrived, Captain."

Mithic's hands worked the dials on the ship, steering the _Sunbeam_ closer in proximity to the growing orb at the center of his vision. As the ship grew larger and more menacing, Mithic felt dread overcome him. He struggled to suppress the emotion, knowing that whatever lay within that ship was a considerable threat, otherwise he would not have felt it so strongly through the Force.

"Get the others up here, Admiral. We're going to make contact."


	16. Rendezvous on Kuat

Trinn DeRay was a lot of things, Carina supposed, but loyal did not seem to be one of them. As soon as they had boarded their small ship, the _Winged Jewel_, Trinn had gone and locked herself up in one of the two small dormitory rooms. Though she had an outer appearance of complete strength, Carina doubted vehemently if that same strength radiated from within.

She knew she really shouldn't judge people, but it was so easy to do so and Carina had always preferred the easy way out. This brought her to her next judgmental thought: she didn't like Trinn DeRay. As long as she kept a good distance between Trinn and herself, she doubted they'd have any real problems. After all, she was trying to be on her best behavior to compensate for Kavar's permission.

Carina tapped her fingers on the console in rhythm with the hum and clunks of the starship. It was hard to keep out of trouble when she was bored—mostly because her mind tended to wander its vast expanse of memories, searching for answers to all the questions that swamped her overloaded and damaged mind. It was even harder to keep still and out of trouble since she was soon to find out the answers to the many mysteries that had been afflicting her thoughts.

Kavar glanced at her briefly, not allowing her a chance to lock eyes with him. This woman would soon find out some painful things, and Kavar wanted to protect her from that. He wasn't certain why, exactly, he wanted to protect and guide her. After all, she was a killer, not deserving of forgiveness for the crimes of her past. But there was a part of him, deep down, that could admit he felt more for his padawan than he should.

This bothered him greatly; a Jedi master should know better. Yet here he was, emotionally attached to his padawan, though he'd never admit it consciously. It was only in his dreams that his true feelings were shown to him. How he yearned for the times when he could go to sleep without worry or fear of seeing Carina's face, seeing her startling green eyes looking at him with a smoldering intensity.

He shook his head, ridding himself of the un-Jedilike thought and image. His ears picked up on the faint but constant tapping of Carina's fingers against the console. It was driving him crazy, but he remained silent, allowing her to do as she pleased. There was another thing that perturbed him.

He couldn't say no to her.

Well, actually, that was not entirely true. He could reprimand her, but that only paved the way to forgiveness and an allowance for her to do whatever she pleased whenever she wanted to do it. Kavar wasn't certain of the reason he allowed her such freedom; he suspected it might be in part due to the fact he did fear her on some level, and feared the power she once wielded carelessly. Then, the more he thought about it, the clearer it became to him. Why he allowed her so much freedom, why he always felt guilty for punishing her, why he hated seeing her upset or hurt, why he defended her from verbal and physical attacks, and why he was deathly afraid of arriving on Kuat. All the reasons why could be summed up in a small three-letter phrase: _I love her._

Kavar's hands tightened around the ship's controls, his body going stiff. All this time had passed and there was the simple answer to his mind-boggling questions. He, a Jedi master, loved an ex-Sith lord? It wasn't possible. Definite doubt began to set in, but his feelings had already ruled it out.

Now he understood why Bastila was being so wary. This woman had an ability to bond with people with such ease that it was frightening. Her power, limited as it was in the current time and place, was still there, lying dormant beneath a façade. Her true self was only waiting for the chance to unleash itself once again against an unsuspecting galaxy. It was her lost memories that kept the monster within her at bay, and she did not know it. In fact, she knew very little about who she really was, _what_ she really was. If she knew? Kavar shuddered to think of that. However, he did take into consideration her powerful emotions. Would she feel betrayed? Angry? Frightened? Sad? Happy? Would her old self instantly emerge to claim the power that was rightfully hers? So many questions arose to smother the old ones, and Kavar found himself drowning in an endless sea of apprehension, his optimism and strength of mind wavering and faltering.

"Master Kavar?" a voice suddenly broke into his thoughts.

"Yes?" he replied, swallowing with great difficulty.

"Why did you agree to come?" Carina asked. He could always count on Carina to ask him a dangerous question out of nowhere with no time for him to prepare a legitimate—and _safe_—answer.

"You are my padawan; I couldn't just allow you to walk into such a dangerous situation without someone who is thoroughly trained and prepared for—"

"No, Kavar, I want the truth, not more Jedi lies," Carina said. Though her words sounded cruel, her voice and tone was soft, almost gentle.

Kavar sighed. "What do you want me to say, Carina?"

"I want you to tell me the truth," Carina said in a pleading manner. "I would rather hear it from you than...well, than from complete strangers."

"And why would it be any better coming from me?" Kavar questioned petulantly.

Carina repressed a blush. "I...it just would."

Another sigh.

"I can't give you the answers you want, Carina."

"Why not?"

"It's..._complicated_," Kavar said through clenched teeth.

Carina gave a weak smile, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "I surmised that already."

"Carina—"

"Kavar." Carina looked at him intensely, her dark gaze unwavering. "Please. I'm not a child; I can handle the truth."

"I've known too many Jedi who claimed that same thing and fell far short of it," Kavar pointed out, trying to buy some time.

Carina saw through his stall tactic with ease, her eyes and senses never missing a beat. "Stop stalling, Kavar, and tell me the truth. Tell me who I was...who I am."

"I can't do that, Carina," Kavar murmured uncharacteristically.

By this time, Carina had abandoned the pleading tactic, as her anger began to rise to the surface. "Why not, Kavar? I'm not asking for much, I just want to know—"

"I can't!" he shouted at her, his voice escalating in volume. "It will hurt you more than you can possibly imagine, Carina. You think you're so strong, but you aren't! You think you can do these things, Carina, think these things, but you can't...you just _can't_."

Tears formed in Carina's eyes, but she fought them back; she wouldn't show Kavar weakness. That was worse than death in her eyes, and it would show Kavar he'd made a mistake in accepting her as his padawan.

Glancing downward, avoiding his gaze like the plague, Carina mumbled, "As you wish, _Master_."

Kavar was close to exerting physical force on his starboard console—anything to keep from admitting to Carina how he truly felt, and anything to keep him from losing her on a mental level. She didn't understand, and that was what troubled him the most, but what else was he supposed to do?

When had the galaxy become such a confusing place?

_The moment you rescued that wounded woman from Malachor V._

---------------------------------

"I _really_ hope you know what you're doing, Indy," Han murmured to her as they all headed back to their luxurious rooms to spend one more restless night before they were escorted by Pruak himself to a more discreet location.

Indy wore a satisfactory smile as she continued walking beside Han. "I told you to trust me, didn't I?"

"Yeah, and I do, don't get me wrong. It's just—I hope you have a good plan to get that holocron back from Pruak," Han said.

Indy's grin widened, growing more wicked by the second. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about _that_ holocron."

Han noticed her mischievous look. "Indy...what are you not telling me?"

"You should know me better by now to know I always have a backup plan," Indy said proudly. "_Always_."

"All right, sweet cheeks, let's hear it," Han said, stopping her in the corridor while he motioned for the others to continue on. "Just what did you do this time?"

"Well," Indy began, "back on Telos, just after I had discovered just how badly the Sith wanted this holocron, I decided that it would be safe to keep it in another location. Off planet."

"Off planet where?" Han queried.

"Now, now, I haven't finished my story," she said, wagging her finger condescendingly at him. "As I was saying, I smuggled it out long before you found me, but not before I'd copied it nearly identically."

"You—" Han choked out. "If Caine and Cody discovered we didn't even have the holocron, you—_we_—could have been killed!"

"Yeah, well, it was a risk, sure, but…"

"A risk," Han rolled his eyes. "Playing with our lives, sweetheart, is more dangerous than a little risk."

"Oh, don't have a bantha," Indy said, shrugging him off. "They wanted us dead anyway. And what they didn't know didn't hurt them...or us, fortunately. Anyway, so I made the fake holocron. It's almost identical in every aspect except for one."

"I really hate it when you smile like that."

"When—or rather, _if_—Pruak or the Sith ever manage to open that holocron, all they're going to recieve for their trouble is an amusing home video of some drunken Sith spouting off insults about each other's mothers."

Indy had begun to laugh now, amused by her own ingenuity.

"How did you—?" Han began, shaking his head. "You know what? Never mind. I don't even want to _know_ how you got that footage."

"It really is quite a fun tale, though..."

Indy giggled.

"You, my dear, are quite a cunning one," Han said, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I know," Indy agreed wholeheartedly.

"But what if Pruak ever unlocks it?"

"The chances of him doing so are very, _very_ slim," Indy explained. "And by the time he does figure out it's a fake, we'll be long gone."

Han's smirk turned into a grin. "Well done, Indy. I have to congratulate you on a well thought out plan."

"Hey, I wasn't a galaxy-class smuggler for nothin', y'know," she replied.

----------------------------

Mical couldn't sleep.

Normally, he would lie in bed and eventually drift off into a sleep plagued with endless nightmares about the past and about Carina. But tonight was different; he couldn't fall asleep at all. He tossed and turned, but he was unable to find a comfortable position.

Giving up, Mical got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, where he turned on the faucet and splashed his face with water in an effort to wake himself up. As he stared at himself in the mirror, he noticed his appearance had changed drastically ever since Carina had died. Everything had seemed to spiral downward after that.

It sometimes seemed like she was there, like he could still feel her presence through the Force, but it was only briefly, and he figured it was no more than a trick of his memory. The fact of the matter was she _was_ gone, dead, and was never coming back. She had died for a good cause, but that gave Mical little peace of mind.

Bowing his head, he tried to sense her presence and was surprised to feel through the Force a spirit that reminded him so much of Carina. His eyes snapped open. This was ridiculous. Carina was gone; he shouldn't have this much difficulty accepting that simple fact. However, every time he looked at Rani and Carth or Evy and Atton or even Indy and Han, he could see what could have been between himself and Carina. What _could_ have been, but never would be.

He missed her.

It was as simple as that. He missed her and still loved her with every fiber of his being. Every day that love didn't seem to waver or die; it only grew stronger, despite how he fought it. He didn't _want_ to be in love with a woman whose last words to him had been "If I ever see you again, I'll kill you." He didn't _want_ to be in love with a memory. Yet wants and desires mattered little in this cruel galaxy, he discovered.

The room suddenly seemed to grow a lot stuffier as he stood there, lost within painful thoughts and memories. He threw on the first robe he found and stepped outside of his room, eager to get some fresh air. Mical decided he'd visit the nearby shipyard; it was loud, noisy, and he hoped it would block out all thoughts of Carina.

As he approached the shipyards, the noise of incoming and outgoing ships reached his ears. He noticed one ship in particular docking, and it seemed oddly familiar to him for some reason. He was about to turn around and head back the way he came—seeing as the noise wasn't helping clear his mind, only giving him a mild headache—when ramp of the ship lowered.

First, a tall man exited it, and he thought the man looked remarkably like Jedi Master Kavar, whom he'd met only briefly several times before. Following him was a woman, dark-haired, who held a stoic stance as she walked. He was almost certain it was Bastila, which made him wonder if the Republic was sending Jedi to apprehend them. After Bastila came an extremely tall woman Mical didn't recognize.

It wasn't until the last woman exited that Mical's attention had been fully garnered. The more he watched the woman, the more he began to think he was hallucinating. The woman was tall and had medium-length brunette hair and the most alluring green eyes. He could notice those eyes even from his current position. There was no longer any doubt about who she was; seeing her only confirmed his senses' suspicions. Mical almost fell to his knees with the realization.

Carina was here.

Carina was _alive._

_---------------_

He hadn't realized how much he depended on it until it was gone. Bao-Dur kneeled on the metal floor, unfeeling of the pressure on his knees and the stiffness in his back. He had been in deep meditation for hours, channeling all of his will into searching for any trace of her. The Zabrak couldn't sense anything from her, not even the distracting flickers of human emotion that Igrayne often experienced.

As he slouched, his legs scooting out from under him, Bao-Dur realized that for the first time since he'd seen his general on Iridonia, he felt alone. It was a strange thing for him to try to digest this information. The Jedi used what remaining energy he had to focus his thoughts. Either Igrayne had shut herself off from him, electing to essentially nullify their Force bond, or she was dead.

He didn't want to even consider that Igrayne might be dead; he reasoned that he would have felt such a happening through the Force. No, Igrayne was alive, but their Force bond was weak. It was in Bao's nature to be able to accept damage. It was how he lived his life: fixing things. He would have to try to fix the damage that had been done between he and Igrayne, and he was more than willing to do that.

A sense of calm surrounded Bao-Dur once he came to this conclusion. For now, until he could see her again, he would focus his attention on keeping his companions safe.

It was not quite two moments after he had decided this that the door indicator beeped loudly. Bao-Dur picked himself off the ground, straightening out his worn robes. He palmed the lock and the door swished open, revealing Rani.

"You haven't happened to see Tren or Evy, have you?" she asked while she stared into Bao-Dur's face.

The Zabrak wasn't the best when it came to understanding human emotion, but he could easily recognize the mix of emotions in Rani's large brown eyes: hope, desperation, and a hint of fear. It was because of this that Bao wished he could tell her he knew where they were, but he had not seen either one since the previous night.

"I have not," he replied.

Immediately the woman's eyes filled with tears, "I don't know where they went."

"Have you spoken to the docking authorities? Or security personnel?" Bao asked, hoping he could be of some help.

"I've searched almost the entire compound and questioned everyone I came across. No one admits to seeing anything," Rani said. She held her composure, but just barely. Her eyes were still watery, and her chin trembled ever so slightly as she spoke.

"You think they are lying?" he questioned, picking up on the subtleties of Rani's word choices.

"I don't know… I don't know why any of this is happening!" The words burst from Rani's lips just as her tears overflowed.

Bao motioned for Rani to step inside his room, and she did, throwing herself on the nearest armchair. "How could they just disappear?!"

The Zabrak watched the crying woman uncomfortably, unsure of what to do. The only woman he'd known personally was Igrayne, and even with the Force bond she was still a mystery to him.

"We will find them," he finally said.

Rani sniffled a few times as if trying to get her tears under control. She wiped the moisture off her olive skin quickly, but teardrops still clung to her dark, thick eyelashes, sparkling slightly in the light. Then she stood and stepped close to Bao-Dur, meeting his eyes.

"When I went to the docking authorities, they did give me some information," she said, her voice measured.

Bao didn't speak, sensing her apprehension.

"They were contacted by the _Sunbeam_ many hours ago and were informed that their landing was being delayed," Rani revealed.

"Do they know why?" Bao-Dur asked, forgetting his discomfort and stepping closer to Rani.

"No, but they have not been able to communicate with them since then. In fact, they've lost track of the ship."

Bao tried to process this information. He was not completely ready to admit all the possible implications of it. Apparently, neither was Rani.

"What is happening, Bao-Dur?" she asked quietly, her voice shaking with emotion. "I don't understand why or how we ended up in this situation."

"Something dark has its hand in the affairs of the galaxy," Bao responded, trying to keep his primal fear at bay.

"What are we supposed to do?" Rani said, tears once again falling down her reddened cheeks.

Bao looked at her, at the complete anguish she was enduring. Not only had her brother and her close friend disappeared, but Carth, her love, was missing too, possibly dead. The Zabrak had not spent time with Rani outside their traveling adventures from months ago, but he knew her enough to know she was as loving as she was beautiful. Rani was a gentle woman who only wanted the best for the galaxy and all who lived within it. She did not deserve such a fate; none of them did.

Rani put her hands over her face, shamed by her tears, by her inability to be strong and composed. Bao could sense her shame and despair, and he reached out his good arm and touched her gently on the shoulder.

She pulled her hands away from her face slightly, enough so she could see Bao, and once she saw the tender look in his eyes, she laid her face against his chest. By instinct, he put his arm around her, allowing her what comfort he could give. And Rani was grateful as she cried silently against him.

---------------

"Well, if your friends were forced into hiding, Kuat is one of the better places to hide," Trinn remarked as she stepped off the ship's ramp and onto the planet's surface.

"You speak from experience?" Carina asked, brushing past her

Trinn's eyes narrowed. "Well, you didn't hire me for my good looks." Her voice held a hard, sarcastic overtone.

The padawan shot her a harsh look. Trinn shook her head and stepped out to better get her bearings. Just a few kilometers north from their current position was a Pazaak den, which was run by a friend of hers who owed her for a game of Pazaak he had lost. It was about time she collected on her winnings.

She turned back around to face the Jedi and stood to her full height. "We'd better get going. I know a guy who owes me, so he's going to help us out."

"Are you sure he will help us?" Bastila asked, nestling into the warmth of her traveling cloak.

Trinn gave a mischievous smile. "He will help me."

---------------

Izzy's Pazaak Den was poorly lit and reeked of smoked spice. But to a handful of aliens, near-humans, and humans, it was home. There were only two pairs of Pazaak players in the den at the moment, and Izzy was standing at the back by the pathetic excuse he called a bar. Trinn took the lead in front of her Jedi employers.

"I thought I told you I never wanted to see you in my den again!" the Dug barked, speaking in perfect Galactic Basic.

"Izzy…"

Trinn put up her hands in surrender; a slight smile spread across her lips.

"I want you out of my den." His voice was cold and showed no sign of wavering.

"I just…"

Slowly her smile faded, her patience growing thin.

"Now!"

He pointed toward the door.

In one swift motion, Trinn pinned Izzy against the nearest wall, suspending him in the air by his throat, and pulled out the blaster she kept hidden in her jacket. Kavar took a step forward; this was not what he had in mind when he had agreed to hire Trinn as a guide.

"Now you listen to me." She pressed the blaster against the Dug's head, moving her thumb to switch off the safety. The weapon hummed to life as it charged. "And you listen good. I am here to collect what you owe me, and I am not leaving until you give me what is mine."

Izzy choked and gasped for air, but he managed to nod his head. The Pazaak players who had been there when they walked in had now fled for the door. Trinn pushed out a chair with her foot and set the Dug in it hard. Her blaster still pressed against his head.

Kavar retreated back to where his female companions stood watching on. It was obvious to him now that Trinn had no intention of killing the creature. Izzy's eyes were wide with fear, and his breathing was staggered. Trinn knelt in front of the chair, her eyes narrow and holding no emotion.

"What do you want? You know I don't have the credits."

"I don't want your credits!" she growled. "I need information."

" What kind of information?"

"There is a ship called the _Centurion's Blade_. It has passengers on it that are important to my employers." She nodded toward the Jedi. "And I know you have a space port scanner and you know all the ships that come and go from this miserable planet."

Izzy's eyes grew wider.

"The _Centurion's Blade_?"

"My patience is running thin, Izzy. Do you or do you not have the information I want?"

She pressed the blaster harder against his head, happy to once again be using her favorite strong-arm tactic.

"Yes! Yes. A ship with the ID signature _Centurion's Blade_ landed yesterday. It contained seven passengers."

"Only seven?" Bastila broke her silence. "There should have been more."

"How many more?" Trinn asked, looking back at Izzy.

"Four. There should have been a total of eleven," Kavar answered for Bastila.

"I don't know!! There were only seven beings on that ship," Izzy answered quickly, seeing the anger flash in Trinn's eyes.

"They could have split up," Carina broke in. "It would have made it harder for them to be found."

"It is possible," Kavar answered.

"We should find a safer location and discuss this in private."

Bastila nodded at Trinn and walked back toward the door. Kavar and Carina followed. Kavar and Bastila walked outside, but Carina stayed behind. She turned to see Trinn leaned in really close to Izzy, speaking in a hushed tone. The Dug's eyes widened again, and then he slowly nodded. Trinn stood up and turned to leave, placing her blaster back in her jacket as she walked. Not bothering to make eye contact with the young padawan, she brushed past her to walk outside.

"I would suggest we find someplace to get some sleep and maybe something to eat," Kavar said when Carina and Trinn had joined them outside. From the looks of Bastila's flushed face, which was framed by wisps of dark hair, the two had come to some sort of a resolution.

"It is much too risky to be discussing this so openly."

Trinn sighed.

"There are some decent apartments just a couple of block from here. Get some rest and some food. I will join you in the morning."

"Where are you going?" Bastila asked, suddenly feeling a sense of pain and emotional suffering emitting from Trinn.

"I need a drink." Trinn replied stiffly.

---------------------------

Igrayne, Dustil, and Atton assembled in the cockpit of Mithic's ship, ready for orders.

"Where've you been?" Atton queried.

"I was busy…_with things_," Igrayne said quickly, her eyes scanning the extensive forward viewport strip along the cockpit ceiling. Behind the vast nebula of stars, the elusive ghost ship she had felt through the Force was drifting precariously closer, and her Force senses swelled to an uncomfortable crescendo.

"Evy…"

Her brain registered an imprint of her friend's emotions—sadness, doubt, and then fear as a shadow encroached upon her with malicious intent. Something horrible was being done to her, but Igrayne wasn't in the position to intervene.

"Bring us closer, Carth!" she demanded, about ready to physically haul him out of the pilot's seat.

"No use. We're being pulled in by their tractor beam."

Mithic took Igrayne aside while the others were preoccupied, fruitlessly trying to make contact with the ship. Mithic's hand clamped about her forearm, and she understood that he, too, had felt the others in that vast, hollow carcass of a ship.

"Evy's there?" he asked.

"Yes. And Tren. Though I can't sense him as well. Mithic, I think she's in pain."

"What are you two whispering about?" Dustil asked, both arms folded behind his back as he strode over toward them.

"Dustil…aren't you the least bit concerned about our predicament?" Igrayne queried.

"Why should I be? It certainly hasn't kept you two from chit-chatting about Force-knows-what. So let me in on the secret."

"Now is not the time."

Almost immediately, his hand swung to chest-level and ensnared her wrist in a vise grip. She could feel his hand beginning to deplete her circulation.

"When is it ever?"

She tried not to meet his stormy black eyes, knowing that if she did, her colossal resolve would break and she would somehow betray what she had done to the rest of the crew. She had thrown caution to the wind without even calculating the risks involved—the risk that one or the other of them might be hurt in the process, the risk that one of her crewmates would walk in on them…the risk that Bao-Dur might possibly find out.

The Zabrak hadn't exactly played the part of doting lover very well lately. He was cold and withdrawn from her, and she had returned this with a well-matched emotional frigidity of her own. Normally, her thoughts would have drifted to him multiple times during the duration of their separation, but these past few days she remained totally focused on the mission at hand. Still, the strength of her need for human contact had surprised even her when she went seeking it in the form of Dustil. It was not as if the thought was appalling—he was, after all, an attractive young man—but her feelings for Dustil many times verged on hate.

"Don't touch me," she snapped irritably, retrieving her hand from Dustil. Her hair had come unbound from the contact, and she brushed an errant strand of it over one ear. Turning to face the others, she said, "How much time do we have?"

Fortunately, none seemed to have noticed the brief encounter.

"It'll be a few minutes before they board us."

"That's all the time we need." Igrayne started for the main hold, ignoring the fluttering of her heart that always preceded her entry into a battle. "Atton, Mithic, Dustil, come with me. Let's check the weapons cache in back and see if we can't scare up some kind of artillery."

"Sounds good to me," Atton said.

Igrayne searched the cache and the storage lockers for anything that could be used as a weapon. Fortunately, Mithic had outfitted his ship with top-of-the-line equipment, which included a full, operational turret system (currently disabled by the tractor beam's pull on the vessel) and several models of blasters and vibroblades. Mithic handed Atton dual blasters and equipped Dustil with a vibroblade.

The man looked down at the sword's long edge, lifting it up to hack and slash through the air at an imaginary opponent. The vibroblade's capabilities were varied: it used an ultrasonic generator attached to a bladed weapon, and the ultrasonic vibrations along the blade's edge allowed it to cut through much denser materials than would normally be possible. Dustil seemed pleased with this choice of weapon, though Igrayne doubted he would reject anything Mithic handed him.

"Let's go. We want to be there when the welcome party arrives," Mithic announced.

As they gathered in the main hold, a great shudder ran through the hull of the ship, nearly unbalancing them all. The transfer hatchways extended and made contact, providing a bridge between the two space-bound vessels. The sharp clang of metal striking metal echoed across the thin tunnel as their guest—or invader—made the short descent.

Igrayne unhooked her lightsaber from her utility belt just as Carth came and joined them in the main hold, armed with both blasters. His hand balanced over the door's locking mechanism, prepared to release it.

"Let's take them down to size," Atton growled as the admiral's finger flickered over the button and the ship erupted in a hail fire of frenetic laser blasts.

-----------------

Rani stayed locked in an embrace with Bao-Dur for a good few minutes, letting the tears stream down her cheeks as she released all her emotional anguish from the last few weeks. Bao-Dur's arm was around her shoulder, holding her into the curve of his body in an effort to comfort her, though the stiffness of his body and the awkwardness of his stance bore testament to the fact that he didn't have any experience with this sort of thing. None of that mattered, however; all she needed was for someone to tell her everything was all right, and Bao's wordless embrace told her just that.

"Thank you," she said, pulling away to look at him through watery eyes. Before she had a chance to disengage herself from him, two figures entered the room unannounced. Rani retracted her arm when she realized it was still draped familiarly around Bao's neck.

"Boy, Zabrak, you sure do get around," Han said with a devilish grin. Bao-Dur immediately stiffened, the low hum from his arm mirroring the turmoil within.

"It's not what it looks like."

Indy's smile widened.

"Those long space flights have you hankering for a little something closer to home, huh?"

"We—" Rani began.

"Spare us the details. We don't wanna know."

"We came here to tell you that Pruak has sent a man. He's waiting outside to escort us to a more guarded sector of the facility."

"Guarded," Rani said sarcastically, regaining her characteristic composure now that the subject had changed. "If what he means by guarded is less hospitable, then we can do without, thank you very much."

"Come on, I gave up my only fake holocron so we could be moved to a more secure compound. Don't tell me you're backing out now."

"I'm not," Rani said, flustered, walking toward the door of Bao's apartment. "I just haven't had a chance to pack."

"Well, throw it all in a suitcase and let's get going!" Indy said.

"I can't. Evy's gone…and so is Tren."

"Convenient, isn't it?" Han said while rolling his eyes.

"What?"

"Oh, come on. You and I both know he had designs on her from the moment he saw her."

"What? He most certainly did not!" Rani maintained. "And don't you talk about my baby brother that way!"

"Evy or no Evy, we need to get moving," Indy explained. "They'll know what to do when they find we're gone. And I'll tell Pruak to keep an eye out for them."

"Fine."

Rani returned to her room to pack all her belongings and then followed the others down a long corridor of the royal compound to where Pruak's "man"—a pretentious-looking Twi'lek with spotted lekku—was waiting. He tapped his timepiece in irritation.

"Pruak said in two standard hours, not three. If you weren't his honored guests, I might be inclined to take you to task for your tardiness."

"We're here, aren't we?" Indy replied smartly, hauling a bag with most of her belongings over one shoulder.

"Yes," the Twi'lek sneered.

"So don't get your lekku in a twist!"

The Twi'lek bared his teeth slightly, his anger simmering below the surface.

"Follow me. Stay close together, and don't go wandering off."

What they were prepared for was a short excursion, but what they met with was something of a long jaunt—the Twi'lek took them through an impressive network of underground tunnels and passageways along deserted corridors that, in former years, might have actually served as the compound's basement. It had fallen into such disrepair, with sunken ceilings and overgrown stalactites, that it would have been dangerous to inhabit some of the old apartments there that they passed along the way.

The journey was long; Indy wondered if it was punishment for her earlier smart remark. The cryptic smile the Twi'lek wore—as if he knew something they didn't—seemed to confirm this.

The tunnels fed into the heart of the shipyard, and their guide led them past some of the newer projects, headed for another base he said one of the Kuati royal families had fled to when a coup d'Etat led by a young upstart had threatened their security as well as the viability of their monarchy. He explained that the rebellion had soon after been quelled, and the royal family reclaimed their power—though none had ever guessed where they had fled to when the worst of the fighting broke out.

The history lesson was incredibly dry, so it came as a welcome relief when the Twi'lek palmed the lock to their accommodations—one large apartment with an eat-in kitchen area, refresher, and two bedrooms. A large panel of windows, tinted black on the outside, provided a nice view of the shipyards.

Indy and Han entered first, laying down their things before staking their claim on one of the rooms.

When their guide finally left, Rani sat down on a couch, donning a red pashmina for warmth. The semi-subterranean bunker was too cold to be habitable, but they would just have to remain here in obscurity until they made contact with the others.

"I wonder where Evy is," she said, massaging her eyelids as she thought of all the possibilities. Bao-Dur sat down across from her, his hands laced together over his knees.

"Think hard. Did she say anything to you…anything about where she was going, perhaps?"

"No. I'd remember if she did," Rani replied.

"I wouldn't worry about her too much. She is tough," Bao-Dur said reassuringly. "And she has Tren to look out for her."

"Yeah." Rani's focus settled upon the window, as she watched the KDY engineers peacefully load and unload components onto a new ship they were constructing. Her eyes soon lost their focus as they misted up at the thought of what might have occurred in the short span of time since she had seen them both last. "That's what I'm afraid of."

---------------

Mona Caine entered the main hold of the ship, chafing the raw skin at the back of her neck. The long space flight was making her drowsy, and Cody's attempts at flying the plane were being interrupted by his compulsion to periodically go check on their prisoners. Caine judged from the fruitless screaming the female prisoner produced that her partner wasn't faring so well with the interrogative techniques. Not that that was much of a surprise—Cody was always better at firing a blaster bolt to the head than persuading other sentients to willingly give up information.

She began chewing on some spice and welcomed the mind-altering, calming effect it had on her senses. At times like these, almost nothing could disturb her from her euphoric reveries—_almost_.

One final scream, and the door buzzed open. In walked Cody, with a permanent scowl etched onto his face.

"How's our prisoner?" Caine queried.

"Stubborn as expected," the helmeted hunter spat. He unlatched the face mask and cradled it under the crook of one arm. Strands of sweat-moistened black hair clung to his olive complexion, and his dark eyes glared dangerously at the woman's one nefarious red eye.

"Give me time. I'll break her."

"Start by searching her. Maybe the bitch has it stashed somewhere in her clothes."

Cody took a seat, flipped it around, and sat down with the bulk of his weight balanced against the chair's back. His burly arms, peppered with coarse, black hair, were casually crossed on top, his chin poised thoughtfully over his relaxed wrists.

"Or lack thereof." He cleared his sinuses with a great snort against his arm. "Her…_attire_ didn't exactly leave much to the imagination."

"Nice of you to notice."

Caine was losing her patience like a Boma chomping at the bit. Patience had never done her any favors. Her sporadic, often unpredictable actions won her more enemies than friends, but it had also earned her a reputation that made no allowances when it came to bartering for her asking price.

Cody was well aware of her impetuous nature, so he quickly changed the topic to avoid confrontation. Fortunately, a red indicator was beeping on the vast array of flight instruments scattered across the ship's controls. Cody's eyes scrunched up as he read the incoming transmission from the other ship. He immediately tossed himself into the seat and began working the dials.

"Looks like we've got company."

"Hostiles?" Caine said, uncrossing her feet as she sat up straight in her chair.

"Could be."

"Good," she said, tossing the last piece of spice she'd chewed on underfoot, smashing it into the ground. "I'm itching for a fight."

Cody swung his chair around mechanically, his hand clamped around the blaster holstered to his thigh. She knew that, at any given moment, he could've pulled it out with ease and shot her as she was walking away. But some strange sense of honor—and that one stolen kiss long ago—remained between them. If he truly wanted to kill her, it wouldn't be with a bolt to the back.

"Get a grip on that trigger-happy finger of yours," Cody warned her. "You take care of the prisoners while I go greet our guests."

"Just as long as I get to ask her some questions…_painfully_."

Cody's lips twitched with a smile.

"Whatever works. See if you can't get the holocron out of her…make our job easier, would you?"

"That's what I'm here for."

Caine fully planned on using every tool available in her weapons arsenal. The petty scare tactics she'd taught herself while a soldier in Jana Lorso's employ would be nothing compared to what these two were in for…

Caine kicked open the door to the prison hold and approached the shivering female in the corner of the small cell. She was curled up in a fetal position, her knees tucked underneath her chin. She didn't even look up as the woman approached her and rattled the restraints on her ankles.

"Up! Get up!"

"Hey!" a distinctly masculine voice screamed. Bewildered by the sudden burst of noise, Caine looked around to find its source. She was greeted with the sight of Trentyn standing behind her, a full head taller than she was.

"What the hell's this? Who are you?" she said, before Tren was met with a boot in his chest. The wind knocked out of his lungs, he tumbled backwards over cargo crates and into the durasteel bulkhead of one wall. Caine approached with malicious intent, wielding her blaster like a bat.

"Oh, well. The more, the merrier," Caine pronounced, her knuckles cracking as she began batting practice on her upraised palm. Tren clambered around for anything he could use as a weapon, but his search produced no results. Instead, he waited for her to draw closer in proximity to him then pushed his body against her with the force of a battering ram. The push was enough to send the diminutive woman toppling over, losing her balance.

It took Caine less than a minute to recover from the blow, though the lingering effects of it were felt in her head. Dizziness punctuated by a slight sense of exhilaration dominated her awareness. She snapped back to attention just in time to see Tren struggling with Evy's restraints.

"Not…gonna…happen," she said, grabbing the back of his collar, using his clothing as leverage to propel him headfirst into a stack of crates that tumbled down on top of him. "Easy does it…"

Satisfied that he was roughed up enough by the blow, Caine went and pummeled her boot over and over again into Evy's side.

"The holocron. Tell me where it is."

In between the sporadic spurts of breath Evy drew in sharply, she stammered, "I…I'll never tell you. Czerka will never get hold of the holocron."

Caine flipped the blaster around in her open palm. "You know, I offered you the chance to do it the easy way…"

She struck her leg with the uncharged blaster's barrel. Evy howled in pain.

"Please…stop..."

Caine crouched beside her on one knee, pulling back her golden cascade of hair to peer into her face. She smiled.

"You want it to stop, sweet cheeks, all you have to do is say the word."

The ship rumbled, and Caine released the handful of hair as a metallic voice blared over the intercom unit.

"I need you up here."

The urgency in Cody's voice told her an even bigger surprise would be awaiting her in the main hold…

---------------------

Cody could not believe what was happening. They had caught him off guard, and he had no one to blame but himself. He should have known that her friends would be out looking for her, wanting to rescue her, and he cursed himself for his foolishness.

Caine was either going to kill him or thank him for making things more interesting, and he wasn't sure which was worse.

He had managed to get a few shots off before the ambient hum of a lightsaber sounded, and he found himself at the sour end of it. Still, he had only managed to hit one of them, and even that was only a graze.

_I've got to be slipping,_ he cursed himself, as a man with a dark stare held a vibroblade close to his throat, and another with a blaster toward his helmeted face. Yet despite these complications, Cody held his rifle firmly, moving his aim over all of them before slowing over an easy target dressed in orange.

"Drop your weapons," Cody announced, his voice mechanical through his helmet.

A man with blasters laughed. "Why don't you drop yours?"

"We have you outnumbered," the Jedi woman reasoned.

"I could kill one of you with a single shot," Cody told them defiantly. "That would leave four others to mourn."

"You'd be dead before you could fire," another man said coldly.

"Are you willing to take that chance?" Cody replied calmly.

The Jedi knight motioned for the gun.

"Don't even think about it," Cody snapped, his finger moving on the trigger.

The woman backed off, but not from his words. A set of footsteps rose from behind him, and Cody knew without looking that his reinforcement had arrived, finally. He was beginning to think he'd have to stall forever.

"What's this, Commander?" Caine said, an unmistakable amusement lining her voice. Cody could tell she was smirking. "Did you start the fun without me?"

Several blasters aligned in her direction, though none fired. He turned, just barely, curious as to why she was refusing to discharge her weapon and help alleviate the situation through progression, and he saw she had not even released the weapon from its holster, though she was far from unarmed.

In her new mechanical hand was a thermal detonator, and Cody could tell she was just itching to set it off.

---------------------

Trentyn slowly came to his senses, and he began to push away the boxes that had trapped him in somewhat of a coffin. When he could finally see the light from the ceiling, he felt momentary relief in knowing he had not actually found himself dead and buried.

The feeling passed the moment he looked across the room to Evy, and his stomach hit the floor. She sat there crying furiously, quivering with pain in an uncontrollable manner, her face so pale she seemed as if she might pass out at any moment. Tren could feel anger and hatred grow inside of him toward their monstrous captors and their complete disregard for the value of human life, of Evy's life.

With a great deal of effort and physical unpleasantness, he pulled himself to his feet and moved to approach her, stumbling only once halfway.

"Evy," Tren breathed once he was at her side, trying to soothe her the best he could as he took in the rest of her injuries.

She looked up into his face with angst-ridden features and eyes so pained and weary that they hurt him deeply, even physically. "We are going to die, aren't we?" she said weakly, clenching her teeth as aching shot through her in spurts at random. Tren could only imagine what she was going through.

"No, Evy. No," he told her with much more confidence than he felt. "I'm going to get you out of these restraints, and we are going to get out of here. It's that simple."

Tears slid down from Evy's large green eyes, and he knew she did not believe him. He only wished there was some way to convince her…and himself.

---------------------

"You set that off and this whole place and everyone in it will go with it, including you," Carth gasped, disbelieving the scene playing out before him.

"Your point being?" Caine replied, her tone revealing her irritation at his obvious statement.

"Are you insane?" Atton demanded.

"I believe I would like Cody to field that question," Caine said with a smile.

"Was there ever a doubt of her insanity?" Cody answered on cue.

"Just put that detonator away," Igrayne said slowly, attempting to take authority of the situation. "We can negotiate."

"Negotiate?" Dustil repeated in outrage, his blade ready to strike Cody dead on a second's notice. "What is there to negotiate? If she doesn't do as we say, then we'll kill this helmet head."

"Touch him, and I will kill all of us," Caine replied flatly, her smile fading to reveal her seriousness.

"She's bluffing," Atton said, though his weakened voice revealed his inner doubt.

Caine lifted a brow, daring him to test her, and Atton simply grimaced.

"We just want our friends," Igrayne said coolly, taking a step toward Caine, who eyed her suspiciously. When nothing happened, Igrayne took in a steady breath and continued. "There must be a sensible way to end this without death. Tell us what it is you want."

"Who cares what she wants?! Just kill her!" Dustil exclaimed.

"Kill her and she will drop the thermal detonator," Carth said with patience, though the tension was not lost in his voice. "Just listen to Igrayne."

Caine paused, thoughtful, before replying unabashedly, "Money."

"Money?" Igrayne replied in disbelief.

"Caine," Cody said in a tone reflecting the confused Jedi's.

"That's the only reason we're out here in the middle of this mess in the first place," Caine explained. "Well, that and the entertainment value, but every good thrill has its price."

Cody's voice came out unconvinced, even as mechanical as it was. "But what about—"

"I'm tired of being told what to do," Caine told him before turning her full attention back to the Jedi knight before her. "So what will it be, Heroes?"

The situation was dire. The heroes were not able to access any credit accounts, for such a transaction would give away their position to the Republic. They couldn't leave without being shot in the back on their way out. They couldn't kill either of their opponents, for doing so would cause the thermal detonator to go off. They couldn't get help, because again, they were fugitives. They could think of no options.

Using the Force, Mithic tried to communicate with Igrayne. She was across the room, so it wasn't very hard, but since they held no Force bond, the connection was weak.

"Can you think of a way out?"he said through the Force.

"No, I don't see us getting out of this,"she replied, channeling all her energy into the response. "Do you?"

Mithic offered his idea, which had just come to him while she was speaking. "If we could find a way to get the detonator from her hand, we could escape."

"That would work, but how could we manage that?"

The woman with the thermal charge spoke loudly to the group. "Well, have you made up yours minds or are you just going to stand there silently? I'm not going to wait around for you lot." She hit a button on the detonator. "This thing is going off in 120 seconds—or sooner if you try anything. If you can convince me to deactivate it, I will."

Continuing the Force conversation, Mithic answered Igrayne's previous question. "We could get it from her using the Force, but she might react in time to set it off before it gets to us. It's risky, but right now I don't see an alternative."

"I'm not too sure about that, Mithic. Like you said, it's a risk, and it's a chance I'm not sure we can take,"was Igrayne's answer (and implied protest).

But it was too late. Mithic reached out with the Force, and a shimmering bubble went up around the thermal detonator. It lifted out of the woman's hands and floated toward Mithic, and all but him raised their weapons and fired at the other side. The armored man brought the barrel of his rifle to aim at Mithic, and he fired, but it was deflected by the blade of Igrayne's lightsaber. Mithic let the bomb roll away before drawing his lightsaber, and with a _snap-hiss_ sound, the pure white blade extended from the hilt, blocking the next shot.

The timer on the thermal charge was running down. The reading indicated there were sixty seconds left before the explosion. The heroes ran toward the docking area, where they could flee the soon-to-be-rubble freighter ship they had been brought aboard. The armored man and the woman with the red eye went for the escape pods. The Force users reached out and detected two other life forms on the freighter. Mithic, who reacted first, jumped for the detonator, and yelled "Go!" to his companions, and they went in the direction Igrayne pointed toward the other beings on the ship.

There, in the back room of the ship, were Evy and Trentyn, whom they had detected earlier to be aboard this vessel. Tren was clutching his chest in pain, and Evy looked as if she had been tortured. Her leg appeared broken, so she would need to be carried off the ship. Atton was just the man for the job. He scooped her up off the ground and waited for Tren to get up so they could leave the ship.

Mithic grabbed the thermal detonator and immediately tried to see if it could be defused. The detonator was locked for that time and required a code to disable the lock. He could only assume the woman holding it held the code as well, so it seemed the bomb would go off when the timer went down, and he couldn't stop it. Time was running out. The charge, if it went off now, would tear the ship apart. He needed to get it away from the center of the ship. Thinking quickly, the captain ran for the control room of the freighter. He thought about his options for a brief moment. He could throw it out of the airlock, but that was near where the two enemies were. They would blast him. He could throw it out of a window, but unless all aboard were wearing spacesuits, they would be crushed by the pressure. He could leave it in the cockpit, but that would also depressurize the ship. A Force bubble would be possible, but a barrier that would absorb the whole blast would require concentration and Mithic would need to be close to the shield to remain contact. As long as nothing broke his concentration, he would be able to contain it.

Ten seconds were left on the timer.

Mithic put up the barrier, pouring all the power he had into it. The rest of the group was returning to the main area of the ship. Carth yelled to him to hurry up.

"Mithic! We have to go!"

Such a loud noise broke his concentration on the glowing shield before him, and the bubble flickered just before the blast went off. A gap in the southern hemisphere of the spherical barrier let a concentrated part of the blast through toward Mithic, and the flames seared through his stomach, letting blood drop to the floor rapidly. The captain looked down at the horrible sight on his torso. His body went into shock at the sight of his blood dropping through the horrible gash on his stomach and in response to the horrible, blinding pain from his seared flesh.

The barrier had held for the most part, but with that small hole much of the flames escaped, forced through the gap with the power smashed together. The blast became much more powerful at that one point.

Mithic's companions saw him drop, and Carth and Igrayne, the two who were able to retrieve him, rushed to the fallen captain and brought him quickly to the medbay on the _Sunbeam_. The other followed, and the two tables in Mithic's ship's medical room were filled. Atton and Carth went quickly to the controls of the ship to detach the connection line from the two ships and engage the normal space drive toward Kuat. Then Carth, who felt he was needed more at the _Sunbeam_'s helm than in the medbay, piloted the ship to Kuat. Atton went back to the medbay to help Igrayne treat their companions. Trentyn waited outside the room, and Dustil went back to moping in the main hold. They were all truly scared for the fallen two, but they solemnly made their way to Kuat.

---------------------

He thought his heart was going to rip out of his chest.

He had seen her. She was alive.

It had been hours since she arrived, and here Mical was, in the dead of the night, lurking in the shadows in front of the apartment building Carina had last disappeared into. He had been following her from a safe distance since the moment he'd spotted her.

He'd even followed them to a Pazaak den, where the very tall woman seemed to be in the lead. Mical had not entered.

What would Carina do if she saw him?

Did she still have any feelings at all for him?

These questions along with a million more engulfed his mind.

Mical Disciple didn't even know who he was anymore. Before Carina's "death," he had such a strong sense of self. He had been loyal to the Republic, the Jedi, Carina, his friends; he had a desire to help anyone he could with his talents with the Force and his healing skills; and he had been optimistic, seeing the light at the end of every situation and always seeing the best in people. Now he felt like merely a shade of a man, a soulless body performing its physiological functions; a droid, mirthlessly completing its tasks. He lived merely because he hadn't died yet.

He had almost gathered enough courage at one point to face her. She had been having dinner at the nearby diner, chatting animatedly with Bastila and Kavar. As he watched her, he saw her as she was when they had been teenaged padawans: hopeful, lively, and helplessly in love with one another. Her eyes were bright and captivatingly green, filled with wonder and excitement. Her cheeks, rounded out by a genuine smile, were a healthy rosy pink. She was no longer marred by the dark side.

He had wanted to confront her, to ask her why she had never answered his anguished call to her through the Force, why she never thought to tell him that she lived. But then, as he began to approach the table, none of that even mattered anymore to him. All he wanted to do was take her into his arms and feel her heart beating against him, feel her breath on his face, and feel the warmth of her skin.

Then, witnessing one small gesture, his world changed once more. Carina waved her fork at she talked, accidentally flinging food right into Kavar's face. Carina, flustered by the mistake, grabbed her napkin and began to gently wipe off the mess she had made. She wiped Kavar's cheek, and then along his jaw line, her face close to his to observe what she was doing. The Jedi master kept his eyes trained on her face, and once finished, Carina looked up at him to apologize. No words ever came out. Once their eyes had met, they gazed at one another silently and meaningfully.

It was then that Mical felt like he was going to vomit. He rushed away into the nearest 'fresher, barely making it to the large chrome sink inside. He retched violently. It was like his body was rejecting the meaning of what he'd just seen. The convulsions continued long after the contents in his stomach had been emptied.

That was why she hadn't contacted him. She didn't love him anymore…

Now here he was, acting like a stalker, unable to move away from the building in which she currently slept. Or at least Mical hoped she was just sleeping.

He was upset; he even felt betrayed. Carina was the only woman Mical had ever loved. It was an ideal love, one that was pure and naïve, yet it was never lessened or changed by being near to her. In fact, his idealistic love only grew the more time he spent with her and the more he learned about her. But never in a million standard years had Mical ever imagined their love would end this way.

He kept reliving memories of her—the good times and then eventually even the bad times. She had turned her back not only on the Jedi, but also on her friends, on him, on the light side of the Force. Instead, she had found her solace in the dark side, choosing its power and dominion over everything else. Yes, in the end she had redeemed herself. But why had she fallen in the first place?

"It's because of me, because my love wasn't enough," Mical whispered to the darkness, which had lately become his constant companion.

If anyone could root her in the light side, instill the beliefs and ideals of the Jedi in her, it would be Master Kavar. He could support her, protect her, and even comfort her more than Mical believed he himself could.

It was with this realization, that she would probably be better off with the other man, that Mical walked away. Mical knew he would never be able to stop loving Carina. In fact, he loved her so much he would do whatever was best for her, even if it meant his own misery or death.

---------------

Rani was cold. It wasn't just the fear in her heart either; her fingers felt numb and when she breathed out, a tiny bit of vapor hung in the air. She had already double-folded her blankets and curled up into a tiny ball in the bed, but still she shivered. The feeling was almost foreign to her. It had been a long time since she had felt cold in bed. Even when the heating unit broke in her Citadel Station apartment, Carth's body beside hers had kept her comfortably warm.

"Is everything okay?" Bao-Dur's voice permeated the darkness.

At first Rani was surprised, but then she remembered that the Zabrak was a Jedi. They could sense things that most people couldn't.

"Yeah, it's just kind of cold," she answered, her teeth chattering together.

She heard his bed shift from across the room as he sat up and activated a light. Rani blinked, trying to let her eyes adjust to the brightness, and by the time they did, Bao was covering her with his own blankets.

"Thank you," she said automatically, touched by the Zabrak's care.

He smiled solemnly, stepping away from her cot.

"Won't you be cold?" Rani said, her voice slightly echoing off the metallic walls.

"I am considering contacting the docking authorities," Bao replied, not really answering her question.

"You're worried about Igrayne, aren't you?" 

The Jedi turned his dark, mysterious eyes toward the woman, meeting her gaze before quickly dropping it.

Rani understood. "Yeah, me too…"

The Zabrak opened the footlocker at the end of his small bed, pulling out a thick robe. Rani jumped out of her bed and rummaged through her own footlocker. She hadn't brought many belongings, so she pulled out the warmest cloak she had.

"You should stay here with Indy and Han," Bao said. "It is safer."

"You really don't expect me to spend all night sleepless and freezing in this dumpy apartment, do you?" Rani asked, fastening her cloak.

In that moment, the emptiness that now encroached on Bao due to his slipping grasp on Igrayne through the Force felt heavier than ever.

A quarter of an hour later, they were still in the underground tunnels, but they were almost to the end. Bao-Dur had only allowed Rani along because he didn't feel like being alone, and he really didn't want to argue with the woman.

"Can we stop to get a drink or something?" Rani asked through chattering teeth.

The Zabrak wasn't keen on tromping around Kuat, but he could see the redness highlighting the apples of Rani's cheeks and the tip of her nose.

"There is a cantina nearby," he acceded, feeling as though a hot drink would be nice.

It wasn't like they didn't have the time either. All they had now was time…sitting around, waiting for the others to show up.

The cantina was relatively busy for the time of night that it was, so Bao-Dur kept a wary eye on Rani. He didn't want to look too comfortable with her, because he didn't want to draw unwanted negative attention from the others. He'd already had one bad experience like that with Igrayne, and he was well aware that some human males detested the idea of a beautiful woman involved with a Zabrak.

Rani immediately made her way to the bar. "Do you have anything hot?" she asked the bartender. 

"Sure do, pretty lady. What about a spiced creamy caffa with a kick?" the middle-aged man asked with a wink.

"I'll take the caffa, but hold the _kick_ please," she said politely with a smile. She turned to Bao, who hovered a few feet behind her. He stepped up to the bar to place his own order, but the barman had already bustled off, essentially ignoring the Zabrak.

"Oh, well that was rude," Rani commented, wrinkling up her nose.

"I'm used to it," Bao replied with a bit of a shrug. It seemed a bit terse.

"I don't think that's something someone should have to get used to," Rani said, pondering for the first time the effect of discrimination on the Zabrak's life. She had never thought less of Bao-Dur because of his species. In fact, she often forgot he was not human.

"The universe is not a perfect place, Rani," Bao replied. "This is something we must all accept if we wish to live happily."

"It seems like every time I start to believe life can be close to perfect, something happens to mess it all up."

Bao said nothing, allowing her to continue.

"If we are approaching our end, Bao, I just wish I would have done more…"

"You should be proud of what you've done. I know what you did at the Battle of Dantooine. That took more than just courage."

Rani's eyes misted over at the memories. She had killed Destrik, but it had never made her feel like a hero. Even when she had been presented with the Cross of Glory along with her friends and companions, she had never really felt like she belonged there.

"That took courage I didn't have," Rani said, unwilling to accept the compliment. "That courage to act came from Carth…and Carina," she said, almost whispering her friend's name.

Bao-Dur cleared his throat gently as the bartender sat Rani's spiced caffa down and finally took the Zabrak's order. He still felt it wasn't his place to tell anyone Carina was alive. That was Jedi business—Jedi business that didn't involve him.

"You ran for Senate," Bao added, trying to steer her away from the current topic.

"Well…that's a dim possibility now," Rani said, sipping her caffa.

"The people of Telos need someone like you to represent them," Bao said, feeling something from Rani though the Force that he could relate to: disappointment.

"Do you really believe that?" Rani asked, turning her wide brown eyes to him.

"Yes, I do," he answered, not skipping a beat. It was true; Telos needed someone with more heart, and Rani had one of the kindest hearts he knew.

"Thanks," she said with a faint but genuine smile.

They sipped in silence for a while, Bao now enjoying his warm cocoa drink. He tried to focus with the Force for a moment, hoping to catch some hint of Igrayne; instead, he came away with the distinct impression that someone was watching them.

"If I could do it over again, I wouldn't run for senate," Rani interrupted his thoughts.

Bao was surprised by the amount of personal information Rani was sharing, but then again, the rest of their friends were missing and Indy and Han seemed a bit too involved in each other's problems for either to be a sympathetic ear at this point in time.

"Why not?"

"I just wish I would have spent more time with those I love, like enjoying the time I had with Carth…or even starting a family," she said, blushing.

Bao just nodded slightly.

"I wish I would have spent more time with Tren and visited him and Evy and Atton…or even had a big dinner party and invite everyone over," Rani said, her eyes focused on an invisible spot in her now empty cup.

"It is easy to recognize what we want the most when it is slipping away from us," Bao said cryptically.

Suddenly, a blonde man bustled into the cantina. His longish hair fell into his face, almost as if it was trying to hide the immense pain behind his cold blue eyes. He was hunched over slightly, and he wavered on his feet, as if he was ready to topple over.

"Oh, my Force, it's Mical," Rani whispered, jumping to her feet as soon as she recognized him. She had wondered where he had disappeared off to…

Both Rani and Bao rushed to Mical's side, helping him into a booth toward the back of room. Rani sat beside Mical, supporting some of his weight, while Bao took the bench across from them.

"Mical, what happened? You look terrible!" she exclaimed, taking in his disheveled and sickened appearance.

"I feel terrible," he said softly, locking eyes with Rani.

"What happened?" Bao echoed, hoping that one of their many enemies hadn't caught up to them yet.

"I saw _her_," Mical mumbled almost incoherently.

Bao knew immediately what had happened. Only one person could affect Mical in such a deep way: Carina.

"You saw something?" Rani questioned, oblivious to what was going on.

"All this time, I thought she was dead," Mical continued in a raspy voice, his head hanging low.

"Who?" Rani asked, tugging gently on his arm.

Mical looked up at Rani, thinking he would be breaking the news, until he turned his gaze to Bao-Dur.

"You knew, didn't you?" he asked the Zabrak in an accusatory tone.

"Mical, it was not our place t—"

"This whole time, you let me believe that she was dead?" Mical asked, suddenly gaining strength and bracing his arms on the table so he could lean forward.

"The Jedi—"

"You…I thought that…I…" Mical stammered, cutting Bao-Dur off again.

Rani, anxious with the sudden tension, grasped Mical's arm, trying to calm him down. He moved his arm, brushing her off.

"I thought I could trust you," the blonde doctor said, his frozen eyes seemingly burning holes in Bao-Dur. He then turned his blazing gaze to Rani, but it softened when he saw the bewildered look on her face.

"What is going on?" she asked, her voice wavering with apprehension.

----------------------

Trinn had been sulking. Okay, maybe sulking wasn't the right word. She took herself way too seriously to ever admit to being sulky. Trinn was _thinking_. She just happened to be drowning herself in drink while she was doing it. 

There were some things that would never escape, some wounds from which people could never heal. To this day, Trinn DeRay would never forget the battles she'd fought or the love she'd lost.

She kicked her head back, her ponytail slipping back over her shoulder as she let the burn of the alcohol in her throat distract her. That's what her life was about now: distraction. She finished off the drink quickly and then bellowed out for another one. If her pain wasn't numbed, she wasn't done.

The Twi'lek waitress scampered over to the table, putting down another ale before hurrying away.

"Here's to you, Jason. I should have died in your stead."

Trinn placed the raised glass to her lips, taking a gulp of the precious liquid while fighting angry tears. She didn't have to fight it for long; Trinn was not a woman who accepted crying.

Her mind began to feel cloudy, the fog of the alcohol finally helping to numb her senses. The combat scenes that usually roared through her consciousness now merely swam around, interlaced with present sensations and random thoughts: the warmth of her cheeks, Jason's flashing lightsaber as he fought, her mother's voice…

This reprieve continued as Trinn raised her glass to her face, staring into the amber liquid. The soothing color reminded her of Carth's warm brown eyes. He was the only reason she had agreed to his job.

She barely knew him, and yet she felt intimately acquainted with him. More than a year ago, when Telos was brutally bombed by the Sith, she had witnessed Carth finding his fatally wounded wife on the planet. Trinn had watched the private scene, seeing the handsome man hold his wife so tenderly in his arms, watching the pain and despair in him as Morgana's life slipped away before his very eyes. After she had died, Carth had calmly removed her broken body from the street, kissing her one last time before he rushed away.

Trinn had followed him, boarding the same transport he did off the dying planet. At first, she merely sympathized with him, understanding the emptiness and sorrow that accompanied losing the love of one's life. But as she watched him during the long flight, taking in all the aspects of his appearance, studying all the subtleties of his actions, her sympathy grew into something else…something she tried not to think about.

She had never gotten the courage to speak to him. Not after the private moment she'd witnessed on the surface of the battered planet. He'd disappeared once they made a stop on Onderon, and Trinn had made no move to follow him. She had always hoped she would get a chance to see him again, and now she had. Since the death of Jason, she'd never even been attracted to another man, but Carth Onasi had not been just another man.

A bit of movement caught Trinn's attention, and she looked belatedly toward the entrance of the cantina. She saw a woman with long brunette curls putting her arm around a distraught-looking blonde man, a Zabrak walking up from the bar toward them.

Annoyed by the interruption and desiring to go back to her thoughts, she thumped her chest and belched quietly to make more room for her ale. She had been watching the woman and the Zabrak carefully when they had entered, wondering what they were doing together, but she soon lost interest when she couldn't manage to overhear their conversation. It probably wasn't interesting anyway.

The interruption continued, however, as the group of three sat at the back of the room in her line of sight. The blonde man looked like hell, and the woman tried to comfort him. The Zabrak looked stoic and calm, just like any other Zabrak. She continued to stare at the three, silent alarms going off in her mind. She studied the woman, taking in her cloak that was too thin for the weather. Now this was interesting…

Trinn pushed herself up from her seat, taking a moment to steady herself both physically and mentally before striding up to their table.

"You look like you really need a drink," she commented, looking at the blonde man. Close up, she could see the bright azure of his eyes. Yep, he definitely fit the description Bastila had given her for Mical.

"Do we know you?" the Zabrak questioned. His tone was polite, but it was obvious she had just interrupted a tense conversation.

"No, but I know you, Bao-Dur," she answered, enjoying the flash of alarm in his eyes.

Trinn's gaze barely flitted on the woman. She didn't even know her, but already she didn't like her. The woman was, at first glance, very beautiful. Trinn found that irritating. She was probably one of those brainless, unskilled bimbos that got through life by using her exceptional looks. Not only that, but by the bits of information that Bastila had fed her, it had made it sound like this Rani and Admiral Onasi were quite close.

"Wait…I've seen you," Mical spoke up.

Trinn paused. She didn't like where this was going…

"You have?" she asked casually, her light blue eyes sparkling.

"You…you're the one who came here with the Jedi," Mical said, finally placing the tall woman in his memory.

"And you didn't greet us? That's strange, considering you're Carina's friend and all," she said, her voice taking on a biting edge.

"You knew Carina?" Rani finally joined the conversation.

"Wow, this one is bright," Trinn said sarcastically, finally paying some attention to the other woman.

Rani looked taken aback, but she said nothing and merely stared at Trinn with wide, imploring eyes.

"Yeah, I know Carina—the one who won't stop talking and throws a mini-hissy fit every time she doesn't get her way?"

Rani ignored the insults about her friend for the moment, sensing that there was something far more important she wasn't picking up on. "You mean you used to know Carina."

"Did I say that I _used to know_ her?" Trinn asked, straightening her back so she could literally look down at Rani.

"No…" Rani answered in a small voice.

"Then, there's your answer, genius." It was just too easy to be mean to the woman; she was too confused at the moment to react.

Rani turned her eyes back to her companions, staring at each of them searchingly. "Carina is…she's…"

"Alive," Mical finished for her.

"Not only is she alive, but she's here to find you all," Trinn added almost dismissively, as if the whole situation wasn't worth her time.

"She's here?" Rani said, her voice barely audible.

"You must have been the smartest kid on the block," Trinn said, smirking.

"Cut the insults," the Zabrak warned her, throwing her a matching look. She merely shrugged.

"I saw her…" Mical said, suddenly withdrawn again.

"Oh, my Force! How did she survive? I saw the Trayus Academy after she'd destroyed it! Why hasn't she contacted us in all this time?" Rani questioned. She was confused, but ecstatic. Her friend was alive!

"Carina remembers nothing," Bao-Dur explained.

"What?" Mical asked, his head snapping up.

"She lost her memory, her entire memory. She doesn't remember a thing about her life. As far as her memory is concerned, she was born the day Master Kavar pulled her out of the wreckage on Malachor." The Zabrak's voice was soft, almost haunting.

It all suddenly made sense to Mical. Carina's closeness to her master, why she had never tried to contact them…

"Where is she right now?" Rani asked after a while.

"She's staying in a nearby apartment building with Master Kavar and Bastila," Mical answered before Trinn could. The tall woman raised an eyebrow at the blonde man, but he seemed not to notice her expression. Had he stalked them or something? At first, Trinn just thought he was pathetic, but for a second, she felt a stab of sympathy for him when she realized why he was so distraught. _The poor bastard…he was in love with Carina…_

"When can we see her?" Rani asked excitedly.


	17. Bittersweet Reunion and the Partnership

Carina couldn't sleep.

The young woman sat perched on the small end table beside her bed, staring out the only window in the small bedchamber. The night sky was fairly cloudy, but she gazed up at it anyway, hoping to catch a glimpse of the twinkling stars she knew lay beyond the cloud cover.

She sat silently, deep in thought. Only by facing her past did she feel as though she would be able to go on with her future. She tried not to imagine what kind of person she used to be. There was a dark part deep inside of her that told her that no matter what she imagined, nothing could compare to how horrible her past was.

Carina's hand moved up to touch her shoulder-length hair, running her fingers through the gentle waves.

If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that she _craved_ companionship. She hoped she would find it soon. Maybe it would help to fill the gaping emptiness inside of her that haunted her daily.

A gentle knock sounded at her door. Knotting her eyebrows together in concern—it was the middle of the night, after all—she stood up to open the door.

"Master Kavar, is something wrong?" Carina said as soon as she recognized him in the dark.

"May I come in, Carina?"

She stared at him. Something about the way he said her name made her heart thud in her breast. He rarely ever used her name.

His blue eyes seemed to glow faintly, an illusion due to the dim light that entered through her window. In answer to his request, she stepped away from the door, giving him room to walk past her. He did just that, striding with the practiced walk of a confident man into the middle of the small room. He looked around as if trying to find a place to sit. All that was available was the bed Carina had tried to sleep in, the covers rumpled from her tossing and turning, and the small nightstand that probably wouldn't withstand his weight. He chose to stand.

"Did something happen?" Carina asked, feeling the anxiety creep through her torso.

"Shut the door," he said, another request.

She quickly did so, recognizing that he seemed to be preparing to tell her something. Carina contemplated activating the lights but then decided against it. She was already feeling a bit immodest, with the scanty nightgown she was wearing; she didn't really want to bring any more attention to it.

She waited where she was by the door, feeling awkward at the situation. The fact that Kavar was silent didn't help any. In an attempt to facilitate conversation, she stepped forward toward him, stopping only half a pace away. Carina watched him intently, waiting for him to speak. His body was turned toward her, but his head was turned to stare out the window. She studied his profile, his refined yet masculine features. She tried not to let the flutter in her stomach from the sight of him distract her as she continued to stare. His eyes flickered with conflict and she could even feel his unease through the Force; it was almost as if he was fighting an internal battle.

She shifted, slightly hugging her arms to her chest in an effort to ward off the chill in the room.

"Master Kavar…"

"I am not here as your master, Carina," he said, turning his gaze to her at last.

"I… I don't understand."

"A good master would never have let their padawan undertake a personal mission such as this," he answered. His voice was even, yet she could sense the anger in it, anger that was directed at himself.

"Forgive me, but I do not believe that is true. You know the pain that is inside of me. I know you have sensed it," Carina responded in a pleading voice. She was afraid he would force her to leave and return to Coruscant.

"I don't think finding your old friends will help that any, Carina." His eyes were locked on hers now.

"If you truly believe this, then what was the point of even bringing me here?" she asked bitterly.

"I want you to know, first of all, that I never thought this was a good idea," he began.

"Why not?" she questioned heatedly, her green eyes flashing.

"I'm not done talking," he said with an authoritative weight.

Carina said nothing but crossed her arms across her chest to signify that she was not happy with him at the moment.

"I am here because…because I am drawn to you," he said, his voice getting softer.

"What does _that_ mean?" she queried, crossly, trying to hide her softening resentment.

"Would you please let me talk?" he answered, obviously frustrated by her interruptions.

"Of course, _Master_," she answered, hinting at teasing.

He ignored her comment, staring out the window briefly as if to regain his train of thought.

"I have known you for only several months, and yet with each passing day, I feel a growing connection to you. I wanted nothing to do with you at first. Even when I found you on Malachor in the debris of the Trayus Academy, and I could see that you were weak, I knew immediately who you were…what you used to be. I was given the task of training you, of molding you into a respectable Jedi. It was a task I believed to be impossible, but I saw no alternative. Throughout our training, I sensed great promise within you, but at the same time, I could also sense your great power, your _uncontrolled_ power."

"I'm powerful?" Carina interrupted, fascinated by Kavar's information.

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "This power has not as of yet been able to manifest itself in you. I believe it is mostly blocked because you cannot remember any of your past. I know that once you begin to remember, your power will slowly return to you."

"And this is bad?" she questioned, sensing the dread in him.

He turned his eyes to her; they were a luminous blue, with bits of glittering gold. "I do not know if you can control your power once it returns."

Carina stood up straighter, trying to appear stronger than she felt she was. She would like to think she had enough discipline to wield such power, but another part of her reminded her that she knew little about herself.

"Maybe I can't. Not by myself, but with your help…" her words trailed off as she sensed something different from her master.

"If you allow me, I will do whatever I can to help you." He said this in the most tender tone of voice, and it became obvious to Carina that, in this moment, he was no longer her master but a man she desired to have in her bed.

Their fledgling romance had only just developed a few short weeks ago during their stay on Telos. Since then, they had been on one mission after another, which didn't leave much time to discuss the two kisses Kavar had stolen. Carina was in no way opposed to the kisses, but the thought that her teacher was making known his illicit attraction to her seemed somehow wrong. At the same time, the thought of abandoning her principles to a night of unbridled lust stoked a feeling in her loins that was near unquenchable.

She was at a loss for words, so she just closed her eyes, allowing her own overpowering need to drown out the warring voices in her head, and pressed her lips to his. She savored the musk that tickled her nostrils and the sweet infusion that bled into her senses as he continued to caress her mouth with his own. As they kissed, they shifted positions, gliding gently toward the small, Spartan bed that occupied the corner of the room.

She helped him undress from his Jedi robes, letting her hands trace the contours of his tight and toned body. He had on a simple undertunic which she easily removed, and a pair of tight-fitting pants beneath them. Her movements were clumsy as she attempted to unlace them, reminding herself that it had been a very long time since she'd last been intimate with another sentient. And Kavar was her teacher—somehow the imprint of his authoritative face always returned to her mind no matter how hard she tried to will it away.

Kavar stopped her movements when his hands slid up the soft skin at the base of her throat to cup her face in his palms. He lovingly gazed into her emerald-green eyes, which unabashedly reflected her lust. He didn't need to attempt to read her thoughts using the Force, for they were plainly written on her face. As he continued to kiss her, his thoughts lingered briefly on the Jedi Order. He would be expelled if they ever found out he had abused his position of power with a student. It had happened before, in the long and sometimes less-than-illustrious history of the Order, but he was determined to keep this a secret at all costs.

His worshipful touch to her arms and face was so unlike the callous way in which he barked orders at her during her training as a padawan. He gripped her waist, pulling her up to him to transfer some of his body heat to her own, though she needed no prompting. Proof of her arousal was visible through her scanty nightgown. His thumb brushed briefly over each rosy bud, eliciting a soft sigh from her. At that moment, all Carina wanted was for him to free her of her garments and begin their long dance to ecstasy, but Kavar seemed intent upon prolonging the pleasure. And Carina wasn't going to deny him. After all, he was a good ten or fifteen years older than her, so he must have been more experienced at these things.

As if sensing her thoughts, Kavar paused mid-kiss and pulled back to look at her. A loose tendril of hair dangled in front of her eyes, and he swept it aside with the back of his palm.

"There is no need to rush," he said softly. "We must take our time with such things. It will be more pleasurable for us both if we do."

A rosy blush highlighted her cheekbones, and she nodded shyly as Kavar gripped her flesh and pulled her closer. His forehead rested against hers as he spoke.

"We can rely on the Force to fuel our own pleasure. If you want, I will teach you."

She nodded shyly.

"Yes, Master."

Carina had never known she could feel such feelings before. The soft rise and fall of Kavar's body weight over hers and the measured pace of his breathing served only to heighten her desire for him. She arched her hips to receive him, using the Force to fuel every frenzied movement. Kavar seemed to have perfected the technique and was performing it with effortless grace. As they both moved in concert together, she felt release come swiftly. It was the most exquisite feeling she'd ever experienced, and it seemed amplified by the movements of her Jedi master. Kavar stiffened in release and collapsed his weight on top of her. He held her until she had regained her breath, then shifted to a more comfortable position on his side.

Carina let her fingers trace the contours of his face. He closed her eyes, allowing her exploratory touch to caress every inch of him. Already she could see by the look on his face that he was torn over what he had done.

"I…am sorry." He pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyelids. "I should not have done that. You are my student, and I should have known better."

Carina was overcome by a wave of disgust. She hadn't felt this way until Kavar had acted as though their Force-mating was wrong. She was under the impression that what they had, for those few happy moments, had been beautiful.

She sat up from the bed and immediately began dressing.

"Padawan?" Kavar said, propping himself up on his one arm. She had her back turned to him and was virtually ignoring him. "Where are you going?"

"Where does it look like?" Carina asked. "Out."

Heedless of his nakedness, Kavar pushed aside the covers and moved from the bed to grasp her wrists.

"No you're not. You are upset."

"Why shouldn't I be?" she huffed. "It's obvious now you were taking advantage of me all along."

She jerked her wrists free and began lacing up her boots.

"Don't act like a spoiled child," Kavar said, all the gruffness returned to his voice. "You know that's not the truth and you are only trying to justify your own actions."

"No," Carina said, whipping around to face him. "What I'm trying to figure out is why your pervading sense of honor didn't prevent you from making this mistake."

Dim light filtered through the apartment's tiny window, illuminating Kavar's creased brow and stern features. His near-perfect physique was spotlighted by the gentle kiss of shadow and light playing on its every contour.

"I won't pander to your need for sympathy, Carina," he said harshly. "I said I was sorry, and I _mean_ it!"

She turned her face down, too ashamed to look at him.

He briskly slipped on his Jedi robes, his blue eyes turning steely. "I will not make this mistake again."

He was about to exit the room when Carina felt a tug at her heart. Her hands balled into fists and she said, against her better judgment, "Kavar!"

He turned to look at her, lulled by the sound of her voice. He knew he should try to fight his attraction to his young padawan, but the Force just wouldn't permit him. Those moments they had spent together had been some of the most perfect moments in his entire life. And he had repaid her by abusing his power and seducing her.

"Please don't go," she said breathily.

His hand was still balanced on the door frame, ready to activate the door's mechanism. Slowly, he withdrew it and walked over toward her. Her one hand wound around the back of his head and tangled in his blonde hair, the other finding its place on his waist. Their lips met again, and Kavar absorbed her drugging taste deep in his senses.

Wrapping her limbs about him, she allowed him to prop her up against his body and carry her to the wall. She freed him of his robes in two successive movements and saw that he was already ready for her. As he eased her down onto his rigid flesh, she let out a pleasured cry. Again, she channeled all her energy into calling on the Force to sustain them both. As a result, the experience with Kavar was more intense and pleasurable than any she had ever known before.

But she couldn't keep her mind from lingering on the nameless face that haunted her thoughts, the man she knew had once loved her, whoever he was…

--

Looking upon the emotionally distraught man, Trinn's drunken thoughts seemed to sober. The pain she thought she had numbed suddenly came back to life with a fierce vengeance. Everything she had kept buried deep within herself was portraying itself in the form of Mical. A sudden rush of memories and emotions washed over her.

The cantina faded away and the conversation that she had been witnessing was now nothing more than low mumbles. Images of Jason dying on Malachor were suddenly all she could see. The stench of sulfur, burned flesh, and blood filled her nostrils. She could feel Jason's bloodied hand grasping hers weakly. His face paled from lack of blood and his eyes dulled with pain. She remembered feeling helpless as she watched him suffer, wanting nothing more than to take on this fate he had been wrongly given. She remembered trying to call out for a medic, but her throat betrayed her. Nothing more than a hoarse squeak escaped her lips. And when she did find her voice, it was far too late…

"Could you take us to them now?" Rani's voice broke her train of thought. When the cantina came back into focus, she was staring into the cold gaze of Mical as he awaited her reply.

Trinn cleared her throat and looked at Rani, then at Bao-Dur, finally making her way back to those blue eyes that knew the pain she felt. "Of course I can. That's what I was hired to do." Her voice masked what pain she might have let linger.

"Is this wise?" Bao-Dur asked as Rani eagerly climbed out of the booth.

Rani turned and said, "Of course it is! After all this time we thought she was dead. Imagine! Carina alive!" Her voice held an edge of eagerness.

"But she will not remember who you are." Bao-Dur stood and tossed a couple of credits on the table to pay for their drinks.

"She obviously remembers something." Trinn remarked, moving out of Rani's way so she could get to the door. "It was her idea to start this little escapade."

"But how could she…" Bao-Dur stopped. Trinn watched his eyes narrow. "Kavar."

Rani stopped at the door, and turned to face him. "What?"

"Kavar must have said something to her…she would not have known the difference if he had not." He seemed to be talking more to himself than to anyone else now.

An awkward silence settled over the four of them. Only the noise from the cantina crowd could be heard. An upset Pazaak player was yelling at his partner and a loud drunk man was trying to smooth-talk a young female Twi'lek into going to the back room with him. But the three friends and the woman hired to find them remained silent.

Finally having enough, Trinn cleared her throat. "So am I going to take you or are we going to stand in awkward silence for the rest of the evening?"

Bao-Dur shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. "Yes, take us to them. I must speak with Kavar."

Trinn nodded her head and made her way to the door. Ushering Rani and Bao-Dur out the door, she lingered for a moment, waiting for Mical. He remained seated in the booth, his face buried in his hands. Trinn sighed and walked back over to the table. She didn't know what he was going through personally, but she knew what she was going through.

"You comin', sunshine?" She tried to hide her sympathy for him behind her voice.

He looked up at her with his chilled blue eyes. "No," was all he said, his gaze matching hers.

"At least let me buy you a drink then."

Mical nodded. Words were always a waste when your heart felt as if it was being ripped from your chest. She ordered him a drink and set it on the table.

"And hey…" she started. He looked at her, stopping her mid-sentence. His eyes didn't sparkle the radiant blue they could have, nor did they glisten with the joy she knew they held. They were dull from pain and filled with sorrow. She swallowed hard. "…Try and get some rest," she finally finished.

Mical scoffed and took the drink. Trinn only nodded and made her way for the door, leaving a now broken man to drink his pain and sorrows away.

The night air took Trinn's breath away. It was chilled and had an odor only Kuat could emit. She inhaled deeply to steady herself mentally and emotionally. Rani and Bao-Dur stood conversing, the bright neon cantina sign illuminating them.

"The apartments are not that far from here." She told them as she walked up

Rani smiled at her. "Before we continue, I would like to properly introduce myself." She stuck out her hand. "Rani Taraster."

Trinn eyed her hand and grabbed it in a firm shake. "Trinn DeRay."

Rani smiled. "Nice to meet you, Trinn."

Trinn returned the smile. "Likewise." Her smile slowly faded. "So may we continue now? Or do you want to stand out in the dark speaking our names for all to hear? You're supposed to be incognito, remember?"

Rani narrowed her eyes. "Yes, yes we are." Their current situation seemed to drop back on her shoulders like a weight.

Satisfied with the worried look on Rani's face, Trinn set out for the apartments.

--

Caine could not believe their sour luck. Not only had they been forced to commandeer a merchant ship full of Gizkas to escape a planet overrun with talking fuzzballs where their escape pod had managed to crash, but now, the duo found themselves in a tractor beam being pulled toward an ominous ship that undoubtedly housed several Sith.

The woman let out a sigh, predicting just how long of a day it was going to be.

"They aren't going to be too happy that we failed in our mission," Cody said calmly, with an expression matching hers.

"Again," Caine added for good measure.

"Not to mention that we managed to destroy just about everything they gave us to help," Cody went on.

"I'm sure that ship was only a few hundred thousand credits."

"Hmm," Cody agreed.

A moment passed.

"I have the sneaking suspicion that they aren't pulling us in to pay us our fee," Caine said, her mood glum.

Cody eyed her and motioned to his weapon.

Caine raised a brow. "You want to fight an entire ship full of Sith?"

"Just an idea," Cody said with a shrug and fell back in his seat.

Caine pondered for a moment the thought of opening the hatch with guns blazing. Undoubtedly, if there truly were Sith masters aboard, the duo would be cut down almost instantly, but ah, what fun it would be! Still, Caine felt like she had a part to play in all this yet, and somehow she knew it was not quite time for her to die.

A Gizka jumped into her lap, oblivious to how the act would certainly spell an untimely doom for the annoying creature, but before Caine could dispose of it, an idea struck her.

"That's it!" she shouted in triumph, jumping to her feet in a start, an action that caused Cody to glance at her sideways.

Without a word to the confused armored man, Caine turned on her heels and flew from the cockpit to gather more Gizka.

--

Mical was hesitant going to the apartments with Rani, Bao-Dur, and Trinn. He knew all of the reasons why he should not go to see Carina, and yet he found he could not deny himself another glimpse of her. Long had he thought her dead only to now find her alive. He wanted to see her, to beg her forgiveness for not being the one to find her, to save her. He wanted to hold her, to see if she would remember him, to remember the love they once shared. Yes, he imagined that she might never remember him, but he would hate himself forever if he did not know for sure.

They walked in silence down a long curved corridor lined with apartments. Each of them were going back in their own minds to a time that seemed like a different life, when Carina was influenced by the dark side, when she fell…

Yet as they reached a certain apartment and Trinn stopped them, the comfort and uneasiness of the silence both faded as noise seeped past the door. It was difficult to discern at first, two muffled voices and a gentle rattle, but as the group stood there, the realization of just what the noise was came to them all at a shock.

"Is that…?" Rani was the first to speak, though her voice fell quickly and she blushed.

Mical turned abruptly, bile rising in his stomach. He had to get away from that noise, from her voice that was making sounds he wanted her to make only for him. But there was no denying what the sound was, what it meant. He had to get away—from the noise and from his own thoughts. He did not want to think of his Carina with another man. Ever.

"We should come back later," Bao-Dur said firmly, but Trinn ignored him and banged on the door with a closed fist.

The noises stopped instantly.

"You have visitors," Trinn shouted against the door.

A slight shuffle was accompanied by the palming of the lock. When the door finally swished open, Trinn was met with Carina's incredulous stare. Judging by her state of dress, she had been…_busy_.

"You?" she said, looking mildly flustered. "What is it you want?"

"Just here to bring you your friends."

"Friends?" Carina turned to look at those gathered one by one, puzzlement registering on her pretty features. "I don't know any of these people. There must be some mistake."

"Oh, come now. Is that any way to treat the people who love you?"

"Love me?"

Rani approached Carina cautiously, searching her face for any hint of recognition. She was surprised to find her features suspiciously devoid of all emotion.

"Carina? Don't you remember me?"

"Remember you? What in the Force are you talking about?"

In a few more moments, Kavar emerged into view in the doorframe, tugging on his Jedi robes. The fact that he had tried to disguise it was even more amusing to Trinn, who decided to have some real fun with this.

"Why, Master Kavar!" Her eyes trailed downward on a devious slant. "Things looking up today for you?"

His brow creased sternly and he opened his mouth as if to chastise her. Whatever he was going to say was cut off by Carina's next response.

"Who are these people?" She spun to face Kavar. "Do you know them or why she's brought them here? Are they from the Council?"

She obviously had not detected Bao-Dur standing unobtrusively in the back, quiet all this time. Kavar frowned. The unexpected visit had caught them off guard, and they'd immediately tried to make reparations by disguising the fact that any relationship existed between them. Now it was being unveiled, and not of his own choosing.

"No. I don't know these people." He shepherded her quickly back into the room before she could say anything else. "Go inside, Padawan. I'll deal with you in a moment."

Trinn's eyebrow arched a fraction of an inch higher. "Padawan? My, Kavar, we do know how to pick 'em. Eh?"

"What do you want?" he said gruffly. "Why have you disturbed us?"

She made a motion toward Mical.

"Loverboy here was just so anxious to see her, I thought, hell, why let a little thing like bad direction stand in the way of true love?"

"You're disturbing us. I demand you to leave at once."

Trinn's eyes continued focusing below Kavar's waist.

"Yes…I see. Perhaps it was a bad time."

She was about to turn around when Kavar spotted Bao-Dur.

"You—did you have anything to do with this?"

The Zabrak, about to plead his innocence, was cut off when Mical stepped in front of him, emboldened slightly by his love for Carina. He had just seen her—in the flesh—standing before him. And it confirmed all his worst fears.

"I demand to speak with you." Mical's eyes darted around as he added, "Alone."

"And why should I grant that request?"

Mical's hand balled into a fist, but he visibly restrained himself from decking Kavar right then and there.

"Because it is about Carina's best interests."

"I already know what is in Carina's best interests. Goodnight." Kavar turned around to reenter his apartment when Mical's hand swung up and caught him by the forearm.

"I think you misunderstand me."

Kavar bristled at the action; if this were the Jedi Temple, he could have him expelled right then and there. But something in the other man's voice told him Mical would not have cared. Perhaps it was better to give him what he wanted.

"Very well."

They walked a good distance away from the others so their conversation would be private. Kavar turned with an expectant look on his face.

"Well?"

Mical reddened slightly as he looked at the master and recalled the noises Carina had been making—noises that only belonged to him. There was a time, not so long ago, when they had shared a moment like that. But this was entirely different. The blackness of the night and the rudeness of Kavar's image in his mind polluted that memory to the point where he felt sickened.

"What made you think you could put your hands on…" He breathed a deep sigh. "We were happy. And then _you_ came along. I don't see wh—"

"You must understand," Kavar began, his tone more sober than ever. "I never meant for any of this to happen. You thought she was dead."

"That doesn't condone what you've done, Kavar."

"_Master Kavar_."

"I don't see the purpose of dignifying you with a title," Mical said venomously. "After what you've done…the other masters deserve to know of it."

"You won't tell them."

"She deserves to know the truth of who she really was, Kavar!" Mical suddenly burst out. "You can't keep her forever in the dark, hoping she'll cling to you because you were her first memory. I only want what's in her best interests."

Kavar began circling him as though sizing up an opponent. Mical knew it was all a tactic to get him to run away. But he wouldn't.

"No, you don't. You are self-serving. You say these things because you think it will return her to you. It won't. The Carina you knew is not the Carina who exists now, nor will it ever be. Even if her memory returned to her, what good will it do? She has caused too much death and destruction."

"Any life at all is better than no life," Mical replied hastily. "And that's what she has right now…no life. Prior to you, of course. But I expect that's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Kavar's features steeled as the words hit him full force. There was no denying the continued effect Carina exerted over him ever since their first meeting in the Trayus Academy. There was no burying the past now; he had to own up to his faults.

"Perhaps you should speak with Carina alone."

Mical was genuinely surprised by this response. He had not expected the Jedi master to see reason, but he was more than happy to take him up on his offer.

"There is much to discuss. There is much you must tell her that I could not," Kavar said somewhat sadly. Together they walked back toward the apartment where the others were waiting. Kavar rested his hand on the doorframe, ushering Mical inside.

Before Mical took a step forward, Kavar grasped his arm.

"When you tell her of her past, leave no detail unturned. And when she asks you my reasons for doing what I did… Tell her I _did_ love her."

He released the younger man's arm, gazing meaningfully into his eyes. And then he began walking back into the shadows, perhaps headed to the cantina for a stiff drink in which to drown his sorrows, or to the spaceport to find a vessel to transport him offworld now that the charade had ended. In his quest to protect Carina, he had ended up irreparably hurting the only woman he had ever loved.

Mical took one look into the vast expanse of the blackened apartment, placing one foot before the other slowly. The near-deafening thump of his heart in his chest almost unbalanced him, but he continued, determined to set things straight and somehow reclaim what was once a perfect love.

"Master Kavar? Is that you?"

--

Indy and Han sat facing each other on the sparse furniture of the cold apartment where Pruak's man had led them. Between them lay Han's Pazaak deck along with a few credits. Indy searched Han's face for anything that would give him away. His face seemed calm.

As she looked at her cards she mused slightly over what his secret was; he always seemed to have a perfect poker face when he gambled. Frowning slightly at her cards, she watched him place a +2 card down, making his amount twenty.

With a mellow sigh, she tossed her cards down, giving up since she did not have any cards that could result in her getting a twenty.

Han grinned triumphantly, his expression distant. "If you're wondering how I do it, it's pure skill."

She playfully stuck her tongue out at him. "It can't be skill if it looks like you're thinking of what you're going to eat," she said with a small smile and stretched her limbs. They had played several games and Han had won the most of them.

"Next time we should play Nar Shaddaa rules." He donned a lecherous look and Indy frowned, thwacking him on the side of the head.

"I'd make sure you'd be sitting with only your socks!" she stated with an arrogant air; Han only chuckled in response.

"The real trick is to only think of something else instead of the game," he said suddenly.

Indy raised an eyebrow. "And what were _you_ thinking about?" she queried.

He grinned mischievously. "That's for me to know and you to wonder about," he said with a wink. Indy blushed slightly but hid her face under the brim of her fedora.

"Uhm, okay, whatever…" she said awkwardly. It was out of character for her, but under the circumstances, it was not odd.

They lapsed into an awkward silence—awkward for Indy at least.

"I'm sorry…" she finally muttered, her gaze fixed on a scratch on the table, just above the cards she had tossed down.

Han looked surprised. "What?"

She sighed and looked anywhere but at him. "I'm sorry for holding a grudge against you for all that time…and for giving you a hard time when I met you on Corellia…" She paused, unsure how to explain her feelings.

"Indy…" he started.

"Shut up!" she ordered, pointing a finger at him and finally looking him straight in the eyes. "Let me talk, damn it!"

He fell silent, looking a bit pained at the fact that the matter was being brought up again.

"I know now that you helped us, gave us more time, but I still feel guilty for harboring all those dark thoughts of you, even if you didn't deserve it, and even if I thought—_believed_—you had chickened out."

An offended expression crossed his face. "Hey! You know I'd never—"

She silenced him with a pointed glare. "Despite what I knew of you, Han, you were always a wildcard, and couple that with the feeling of betrayal when I realized you ran off…"

Han let out a low grumble, not liking the implications of her sentence.

"No matter how noble your actions were," she added quickly, chuckling slightly at his reaction. "I could believe anything anyone had ever said to me about you, and don't doubt that Kressh had some _really_ bad things to say about you after you shot him and stole his ship."

"Kressh was a scrag-end, and you know that! He tried to kill you!" he exclaimed.

"I know, Han, but that wasn't until he realized I was _working_ for you! Still haven't quite forgiven you for running off like that, leaving me in a _force cage_," she said with a frown. She grinned as soon as Han's face made a grimace.

"Still thinking about that? I did come and get you."

"Not until you had delivered the goods _and_ visited that cantina with the famous Pazaak tables."

"Aw, come on! How did you find that out?" he exclaimed, horrified.

"A little birdie whispered it in my ear when we went there after you broke me out."

"It was that waitress, wasn't it? She kept giving me the evil eye."

"I think that was because you kept trying to cop a feel, Han."

Han fell silent and Indy chuckled at his comical expression. "Wow, bringing up past events really is entertaining," she said and smiled at him. "Don't worry, Han, I know you didn't trust me when that happened."

"Who would?"

She ignored that and sent him a playful glare. "Well, after the battle…"

Han made another face, and she let out a guffaw.

"Han, stop it! I can't talk seriously if you keep making this into some silly reminiscing!" she exclaimed, although not angrily since she had a wide smile.

"That's what I'm here for, kid," he said with a self-satisfied tone. She swatted him on the head again.

"You can stop calling me kid now. That expired after I saved your ass when you went on that suicidal mission and got your ship utterly trashed, and she was a hunk of junk from the beginning."

"The _Eagle_ was not a hunk of junk!" he protested.

"It was always a hunk of junk, Han," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "No matter how many times you deny it. She accidentally jumped out of hyperspace once and nearly got us killed!"

"But a major payday came out of that," he reasoned. "And it was never the hunk of junk the _Centurion_ is now."

"The _Eagle_ was always worse than the _Centurion_, even now!" she argued. They both glared at each other. A tense silence settled on them as they looked at each other, neither wanting to admit which ship had been and was in the worst condition. A metallic clanking sound made them divert their attention from the staring contest they were having, and their eyes fell upon a rust-colored droid.

"HK-47?" Indy said, not entirely remembering if the droid had come with them or not. He had a habit of sneaking around; he was an assassin, after all.

"Query: Have you seen my master, meatbag?" the metallic masculine voice said. Indy has always found that voice utterly creepy, but his insistence on calling people "meatbag" amused her.

"Isn't she with Bao in the other room?" Han asked, scratching his head.

"Statement: Negative." The droid stood motionless and his red receptors glowed menacingly.

"They must have ditched us while we were busy with the cards," she mused.

"Well, we'll go to look for them just so we can hand the lost droid over to his owner. He creeps me out to no end," Han announced, dragging Indy out of the room. HK followed the two, staying quiet.

After navigating the halls of whatever complex the lackey of Pruak had hidden them in, they managed to find a large street. Ahead of them large ships arrived and departed this side of the town in the docking bay. The familiar rumble of ships' engines reminded Indy of her own ship, which was currently docked near the palace. Spotting a cantina nearby, she pointed it out to Han.

"Meet me there in half an hour. I need to check the _Centurion_ and arrange for repairs; maybe I can put the bill on the palace."

Han nodded his affirmative and grabbed the rust-colored droid's arm. "C'mon you bucket of bolts; we have to find your owner."

Indy parted ways with the two and headed for the palace again. She was confident she could get in and enter the docking bay there and order the mechanics to get to work on her ship, which deserved to be fixed up more than any other ship out there. The _Centurion's Blade_ had aided the whole group countless times.

Creeping up to a wall, she grabbed the vines growing up toward the top edge of it. The plants were fully grown and strong, she was confident they would hold her weight. Glancing around her, making sure there were no witnesses, she hoisted herself up and managed to climb up and over the wall. Landing with a dull thud on the lawn of the massive gardens surrounding the majestic palace, she crept through the gardens and toward what she believed was the direction of the landing pads.

As they had been hurriedly swept away into the palace itself, she hadn't gotten a proper chance to look at the palace's layout, but who needed that information when you had a scoundrel's luck on your side? Ducking behind a large bush, she just barely avoided being seen by a pair of fancy-looking people; they were, most likely, some of those royals Pruak had talked about.

Another man passed; this one had coveralls on that bore the symbol of a Kuat royal engineer. The oil stains and slight smell of what Indy defined as some sort of fuel told her this was the man she should follow.

After he had passed, she casually started walking along the gravel road, trying to make it look like she had a right to be here. Soon, the engineer led her to the landing pads, and she saw her battered and bruised ship in the far corner, half covered up. It was no doubt an attempt to try to hide the identity of the ship.

As Captain Pollard of the _Centurion's Blade_, Indy wouldn't get far in her mission to fixing up her ship free of charge, but as a royal engineer of Kuat, she could demand anything.

Casually walking toward the area where the engineers seemed to enter and exit, she found a room filled with lockers. Walking casually toward one, she grabbed hold of the lock and started working on getting it open.

After several minutes of hard work and several odd looks, she finally managed to get the thing open. Yanking up the door, she pulled out what appeared to be the coveralls of an engineer; just what she needed. The tag read _Jenos Idanian_. Quickly putting the coveralls on, she exited the large room and found an unimportant-looking mechanic, hoping this person did not know Jenos personally.

"Excuse me…" She paused and looked at his tag. "Draygo, you have to start working on that ship over there." She pointed at the _Centurion's Blade_.

The mechanic looked a bit dumbfounded, but he gave a weak nod. She took this as a cue to keep talking. "Everything has to be fixed up to prime conditions," she stated and thought for a second. "And install anything that might hit your fancy, but _don't_ remove any equipment in there." With that last order, she went back to the locker room and ditched the coveralls and then decided to get out of there as fast as possible.

Han and HK wandered around for a while, until the droid stood at attention and its head swiveled toward an apartment building. Mechanically, the droid marched toward it.

"Wha? Hey! Where are you going?" Han protested. He ran after the droid, which ignored him and continued going. When they entered the apartment building the droid continued on, seemingly knowing where to go. When he finally stopped, he made a sort of salute.

"Salutations: Greetings, Master!" it said, and Han looked out from behind it.

"Hey guys, you ditched us."

--

Another day, another death...

Though this one would not be just any death, not for him. No, Jene stood to collect a hefty fee from his employers if this was pulled off right. Most of it wouldn't be in credits, not according to their deal. No, he would instead receive some very rare technologies and some very special weapons, not to mention all the money he stood to make once the entire Exchange started selling his hellfire weapons and kits for a good royalty per unit. He knew they would keep up their end of the bargain: the Exchange was a business, like any other, and they wouldn't last long if their products weren't up to snuff. All they asked was one very special favor...and Jene Cyrus, part-time bounty hunter and part-time general menace to society, had happily accepted. Besides, they had already paid part of his fee in advance, he thought as he again admired the new improvements to his arsenal.

It was more than that, though. A handful of ex-Sith, rumors of a former Sith lord among them, and one particularly hated man—former Admiral Carth Onasi, who had earned Jene's everlasting enmity over one very small comment. Jene was known for his efficiency, but also for his madness, and the disgraced officer had stumbled upon one of the keys to his insanity. Jene hated him for it, and he would until his last hour. Carth would never know that, of course: he would be dead long before he had a chance to understand it.

The _Black Sun_ slipped out of hyperspace as if it had dived into a lake from a long drop. The cloaking shields would prevent its entry from being detected by scanners, but the lurching feeling of returning to real space was still unpleasant to the lone occupant of the craft. Being both fairly small and undetectable to scanning, he was effectively invisible as he entered Kuat's airspace, lowering the cloak only to get the spaceport to open. To those inside, it must have come as something of a shock for the craft to suddenly appear on their scanners. Later that day, the entire scanning array was tested and overhauled, as if it would prevent a recurrence. It also saved Jene the trouble of giving the signature of a ship that might as well have been drenched in blood for all the reports of its connection to smuggling, murder, and worse. He could do many things, but he would never abandon his ship. Allowing the obliterator cannon to fall into anyone else's hands would be disastrous.

He landed in the spaceport and exited the ship fully armed. His pistols were at his sides, fully charged and ready to go, his sun rifle slung easily over one shoulder while the annihilator remained strapped to his back. His mismatched eyes focused on the man in front of him, apparently a docking officer, and Jene was not surprised to behold the man literally shaking. At this, the bounty hunter only gave a thin smile and approached the man with frightening speed. He did not wait to hear the man's greetings; instead, he immediately began ordering him around with a surprisingly smooth tongue, his words flowing and esoteric in tone but crystal clear in nature.

"Hello, officer. This is my ship, but I will not need to pay the docking fee. I am a very special pilot with very special connections, you see? Good. No one is to touch my ship, not even to repair it. Those wires stick out for a reason, and I don't want you blasting her apart for no good reason. Understood? Good, I'll be off then."

Before the young man could even begin to speak, he was off. He knew where he needed to go, and he was not going to be delayed in getting there.

A short while later, he had come to the place where he knew they'd be. There they were, a lot of them standing out in the middle of the hallway. He counted three humans, one Iridonian, and one HK-series assassin droid. Most wouldn't recognize it for what it was, but Jene had the misfortune once to be chased by an HK droid. It was a formidable foe, but his then prototype sun rifle had made short work of it in the end.

He didn't recognize all of the humans, but he recognized one of the women as the now disgraced senator-hopeful, who also happened to be Onasi's girlfriend when last they met. Having been unable to locate the former admiral himself, he supposed she would have to do for now. His annihilator clasped in both his hands, he stepped out of the shadows and into full view.

They didn't notice him, at first, but all he really needed to do to announce himself was to pump the handle of the gigantic weapon. The droid noticed the sound first, and as its head turned the others began to turn with it. He supposed that one or two recognized him for _what_ he was, and he knew that Miss—_Rani_—recognized him for _who_ he was.

"Jene Cyrus." She spoke as if contemplating it.

The last time they had met, he was busy holding off a wave of attackers for them. He wondered if she still had that impression of him, but then he realized he didn't honestly care. Again, his voice flowed smoothly, yet somehow it was strange, different.

"Hmm...ladies, gentleman... and droid, yes. I see you are not all here, and I see some I do not recognize. Not that it matters. I come as a courtesy, hunter's courtesy I suppose. I hope by now you are aware of the rather large bounty placed on each of your heads, but you needn't worry about it much longer. Your death will come soon enough, and I will be there to witness it. Mark the hours, the days, ladies and gentleman, for they are to be your last. I give you...twenty-four hours to prepare yourselves. Plenty of time to get your affairs in order...and for the rest of you to arrive. Goodbye, though I am sure we will be seeing more of each other very soon."

He began to set off down the corridor, then stopped, turned around, and added, "And don't bother following me. It would be a shame to reject the gift I've given unless you have some burning desire to meet death."

After that, he walked away, retreating into the shadows to wait and plan. The hunt would begin very soon.

--

Trinn set out for the cantina, suitably pleased with herself. After having witnessed the scene between Mical and Kavar, she had begun to work up a thirst. She entered the cantina and was greeted by a cacophony of discordant sound: the jizz-wailer music blaring, the angry shrieks of a bar brawl brewing after it was discovered a Pazaak player had used a loaded deck, the barman barking out orders for the cantina's denizens to come and retrieve their drinks. She wrinkled her nose at the rancid smell that permeated the air and took a step inside. Despite the acrid stench, she was most at home in places like this.

She took a seat at the bar and ordered a Juma. She was nursing the drink when her eyes fell into focus upon a figure at the opposite end of the bar, drowning his sorrows in a stiff drink. She hadn't expected to see Kavar in a joint like this, but after tonight, it was almost understandable.

She flipped the barman a couple of credits and vacated her seat, taking the Juma with her. She plopped down into the open spot beside Kavar and carefully placed her glass on the bartop.

"Taking a load off?"

He hardly glanced up long enough from his drink to register her presence beside him. Not that he needed his eyes to tell she was there; the Force told him all he needed to know through the irregularity of its ebbs and eddies.

"Not one for talk, are you? That's okay. Neither am I."

Trinn gulped down her Juma and made a rude gesture to get the barman's attention. When he bustled over, she flipped him another few credits.

"A Juma. And one for my friend here." Then, surveying his drooped face nearly bent into his drink, she added, "Make it a double."

It wasn't long before the barman returned with her order, and Kavar finished his current drink before starting the new one Trinn had bought him. A smile dimpled the corners of her mouth as she said, "Boy, first it's womanizing, now it's imbibing. What'll it be next, Kavar, stripping for credits?"

The Jedi master's eyes narrowed darkly at the suggestion, but he said nothing, too consumed by his own guilt and grief to have cared to answer her. Trinn knew she had him at a disadvantage, and she almost felt sorry for the poor bastard.

"Isn't that, like, forbidden by the Jedi Code?" she said, referencing the drink lodged firmly in his wide open palm.

"Do you care?" His voice was thick with inebriation, but it still held a wonderful, rich resonance to it. Trinn shivered as she was reminded of a voice similar to this one—a voice she still heard in her dreams. Jason.

She shut her eyes tightly, and for a moment all of the cantina's raucous sound faded away. The mottled brown-gold walls became a prison of mountainous spires, and the vaulted ceiling transformed into an eerie green glow.

She was again on Malachor V the night that Jason, her secret lover, was killed. The whole planet reeked of death and destruction. One by one, she saw her comrades fall. A general feeling of chaos reigned. Somehow she had gotten separated from her squadron and was now fighting her way through a thick wall of stone. It was as if the planet was alive, seeking to ensnare her. Then a hand reached through the crags and pulled her free of her entrapment. She was even more relieved to see that the hand belonged to Jason.

"Come on."

Together they ran to where the fighting was taking place. Jason turned sharply around to face her. Strands of black hair clung to his forehead, matted with sweat. He was out of breath from the short jog back to where their squadron was.

"Trinn, listen to me. You need to get out of here. We're fighting a losing battle…I don't want you to be just another casualty."

"Not on your life. I'm staying right here."

He cracked a smile, knowing she wouldn't listen to him. That was before he saw the blade of a vibrosword bury itself in his chest, before the blow took him to his knees. Trinn elicited a cry of horror, trying to reach out and rewind events. Jason collapsed in a pool of his own blood, and Trinn felt her own body begin to shake as her anger began a slow climb. When it reached its peak and boiled over, she unholstered her blaster pistol and aimed it right between the eyes of her opponent as he charged. One bolt sizzled through his skull, toppling him over.

Trinn went over and balanced her boot on the corpse's face, pressing it with all of her strength into the dirt where it belonged. Her anger forgotten for the moment, she ran back over to Jason and lifted his body weight in her arms. It was too late; she hadn't even said goodbye.

She held him to her, howling mournfully at what she had lost, letting the sweeping veil of her brown hair cover his face—a face that would have been aglow with sensation had he not been robbed of life.

"Jason," she whispered.

"What?" Kavar said, his speech slightly slurred. On the fourth drink he had begun to show intoxication, but Trinn hadn't really been aware of it until he spoke her name. So lost was she in a memory that was now little more than a long-ago dream.

"Nothing." Quickly regaining her cool, she said, "You know, you shouldn't be so fixated on Carina. It was bound to fail from the beginning. Relationships that are secret…always do. In the end, some external force always ruins it for the both of you."

At this point, she was no longer talking about Kavar and Carina. The Jedi master seemed not to notice.

"I have only you to thank for that."

"Don't mention it."

She removed herself from her stool and flipped Kavar a few extra credits.

"Here. On me, okay?"

Kavar's question was quizzical as he watched her storm away, brooding, into the black Kuat night. He turned back around, his shoulders stooped, and ordered another drink off the bar.

A breathless gasp broke the silence of his thoughts, and Kavar turned around to see Rani, Indy, and Han standing there with an armed to the teeth HK-series assassin droid and the Iridonian, Bao-Dur. His momentary alarm gave way to curiosity.

"Yes?"

"Master Kavar," Indy said, "come quickly. Jene Cyrus has just been spotted!"

"Who?"

"Oh, Force, just _come_ will you?"

"Maybe this isn't the smartest idea, kid," Han said. "The guy said he'd kill us if we followed him. Maybe he gave us some good advice when he told us to piss off."

"Says you," Indy shot back.

"Indy is right. There is little time to act, and we need Master Kavar's—and the Council's—help if we are to do anything," Bao-Dur insisted.

"I see."

Kavar got off his stool and stumbled a little bit, but Indy caught him. A bemused expression replaced the previous look of worry on her face.

"Master Kavar, are you…drunk?"

"It's none of your business whether I am or not," he said testily.

"Fine, whatever."

"We really must be going," Bao-Dur insisted.

With that, the five of them set out immediately to follow the trail to Jene Cyrus. Yet, as is the case in all cases of cosmic irony, Jene Cyrus was literally right behind them. He knew, both from what experience he had already had with the group and from the observations he had made, that they were all split up and that it was likely that some of them were not even planet-side yet. He also knew that, being such good friends as they were, they would all eventually seek each other out. The obvious move? Follow them and let his targets do all the work of finding the rest of their group. That is exactly what he did.

It wasn't exactly difficult, either. Jene had long ago learned to master the art of walking unseen. After dozens of infiltrations and hundreds of late-night killings, sneaking about was like second nature to the assassin. From the minute they had left the apartment complex, he had been shadowing their every move, and only by his whim (or a bout of extremely good luck and timing) would they see him. His armor helped with this somewhat: the soles were lightly cushioned to reduce noise, and the rest of his armor was built not to connect near joints. It wouldn't rub together, so long as one kept their legs apart and their arms away from their torso. The support was so simple that he didn't need to build it or even spend many credits acquiring it, but it was still very helpful.

When he saw that they were heading for the cantina, he turned away from them; this was the one and only time they were out of his sight. This was not his first trip to Kuat, which he had visited a few times before to "requisition" some supplies for his ship. He had also had chance to go to the cantina, and as was standard for him, the first thing he did was make friends with the bartender. In return for some help removing a rather large group of drunken thugs, he had gotten access to the back rooms of the cantina, including a back door. He never went in the front if he could, as they were probably watching it. Instead, he took the back way, crept through the storeroom, and walked out next to the bar. A quick nod to the bartender reminded the man of his identity.

He took a seat close to the table with the drunken Jedi and the scoundrel and listened in. He had to hold himself back from laughing at the Iridonian's insistence on getting the assistance of the Council, but more importantly he learned the name of the Jedi, a supposed "master" named Kavar. That was a valuable piece of information, and while he wasn't sure if his name was on the assassination writ—the contract for the killings—he could still probably fetch a sizable bounty for the Jedi's corpse. When last he checked, there were still Exchange officials dumb enough to accept dead Jedi for bounties. The scoundrel...well, she'd be a witness, at least. That alone was cause for killing her.

At the conclusion of the group's little chat, they left, presumably looking for him. If on the off-chance they were able to track him, they would find that the trail led to the cantina and discover that he had followed them. By then, of course, it would be far too late.

He left the cantina the way he came in and walked off. He would keep tabs on them, of course, but he began to fear discovery so he allowed them a bit of space. In the meantime, he needed a chance to get close to that droid...

--

"Master Kavar, is that you?" the feminine voice repeated, slightly entreating. Mical froze in his tracks, afraid to follow that same voice to its source, afraid to find what he thought would be a confirmation of his worst fears.

"Master Kavar," the same singsong voice entreated, "please come here and let us finish what we started."

Mical doubled over, his stomach involuntarily emptying itself of its contents. He had felt ill ever since seeing Carina emerge in a questionable state of dress from the shadowy recesses of the apartment. Now he was physically manifesting signs of his inner turmoil.

At the sound of his violent retching, footsteps padded closer and a light switch flicked on. The young woman was clutching a bed sheet around her shoulders and wore an airy dressing gown, and Mical had never seen her look more radiant than on this night.

"You," she said, though she had only seen him moments before. She ran to fetch some towel to mop up the mess, but Mical held out a hand and retrieved the towel from her to complete the task himself.

"Don't trouble yourself."

He quickly cleaned up and tossed the towel in a trash receptacle. He could feel Carina studying him intently as he worked, though whether it was because of fear or recognition, he couldn't tell.

"Why are you here?" she asked, shrugging the sheet around her shoulders to disguise her embarrassment. "Where's Master Kavar?"

"I don't know," Mical replied truthfully. He took in every line of her face and was about to reach a hand forth to touch her mouth when she snapped back and glared at him indignantly.

"What are you doing? Don't touch me! Where's Kavar? I'm going to go find him."

Her short flight toward the door was broken off by Mical's clipped reply.

"He's gone. He won't be back tonight."

She slowly turned, keeping close to the door in case she had to bolt.

"When will he be back?"

"I don't know."

"Who are you?"

"Don't you remember me?" His voice cracked, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to support himself using only his legs. He was feeling very weak, so he clutched the wall nearest him for support. "Please tell me you do."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "Would you care to explain it to me? What's going on here?"

"Carina," he began.

"That's another thing!" she interrupted. "How in the Force do you know my name? It seems like people I don't know are the ones who know more about me than I do."

"I knew you once, yes," Mical said. "A very long time ago. Don't you remember our days as coworkers?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

"Don't you remember how we stole a bottle of Dr. Broak's medical serum and pinned the blame on old Algor?"

The young woman looked incredibly confused.

"No…I guess not," Mical said, disappointment registering upon his face. He'd hoped that somehow reminding her of things would animate them in her mind and bring to life the Carina he had once known.

"There's many things Master Kavar has not told me about my past," she admitted, sitting down closer to him on a plush sofa. She seemed comfortable enough with him sitting next to her; there was no apparent threat from this man. If anything, his warm blue eyes greatly comforted her. Those eyes…she could have sworn she'd seen them somewhere before.

"That is true. The master has not been entirely forthcoming with you. But don't you ever wonder about the day you were rescued from the ruins of Trayus Academy—why it is you can't remember anything of your past life?"

"Yes, but nobody seems to be giving me any answers." She suppressed a smirk. "Unless you'd care to enlighten me."

"You were a Sith lord. How's that for enlightening?" Mical offered. The words poured forth freely, spilling from his mouth without care. "And your beloved Master Kavar was on his way to finish you at the behest of the other Council members, when it was discovered you had no previous knowledge of your identity. Then they decided they would use you, mold you into their puppet. Kavar was using you to fulfill the Council's wishes, and I can see now that he did just that."

Mical leapt to his feet and began pacing to dispel some of the tension.

"I can't believe you. I can't be a… Kavar wouldn't…"

"He loved you, Carina, but not as I loved you."

She looked at him, slack-jawed, her face registering surprise as his words began to sink in. She summed up the equation, and all signs pointed to the fact that his were the eyes of which she dreamt night after night. The moment she had asked Kavar if they had been lovers—it was this man she mistook him for.

"You. I know you," she said.

For the first time in a long time, Mical felt he had something to smile about.

"Yes, you do."

There was a long night of talking ahead, and due to Kavar's prolonged, possibly permanent absence, Mical knew he could speak to her freely of everything that was on his mind and hopefully salvage what was left of their love before it was too late.

--

While Mical's hopes soared, Carina could literally feel her heart dropping. Her past had, up until this point, been hidden from her, ripped away from her without her consent. It was now beginning to manifest in this golden-haired, blue-eyed man. It was as if she were staring into the very recesses of her mind, pulling out the one memory she knew so vividly, so intimately.

For a moment, she had an urge to touch him, to see if he was real—not just a figment of her imagination. She fought back this urge, knowing it would not be appropriate in this situation but, moreover, knowing that if it was simply her imagination playing a trick on her, she didn't want to dismiss the memory.

She trained her green eyes on him, continuing to remain on the couch, hesitant to approach him. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words he had spoken previously swam about her head so viciously that she could barely form a complete thought, much less a sentence. Closing her mouth, she just glanced downward, unable to look at the handsome man in front of her.

"Carina," he began, the name tentative on his tongue, "I know this is difficult for you, but—"

"You have no idea," she interrupted, teeth clenched tightly together. Why couldn't she remember anything?

_You were a Sith lord._

No. That was a lie. She couldn't be a Sith lord, she was too—what was she? Certainly she was not perfect, not by a long shot, but that did not make her evil. Sure, she had anger issues—who didn't?—and she was not the most patient person in the world, but did that hint at a dark, despicable past as he had said? Had she been a Sith lord? Had she been everything she fought so hard against now? Was what she did now simply redemption to atone for her past atrocities?

"I..." she began quietly, "I—I don't remember."

Mical kneeled down beside her, gazing into her unfocused emerald eyes. "You must. Please, think."

_And your beloved Master Kavar was on his way to finish you at the behest of the other Council members._

It made her sick. She remembered that part, meeting Kavar on Malachor V. However, even that memory was hazy and confusing. She tried recalling the words both had spoken, but it remained a mystery to her. What she could remember, however, was anger and tension, vulnerability and guilt. Perhaps this was the reason the Council hated her so, the reason why Kavar secretly _hated_ her. Perhaps the passion they'd shared was vehement hatred on his part.

Was it really hot in there? Why couldn't she breathe?

"I—I can't..."

"Yes, yes you can, Carina," Mical pleaded with her, urging her to remember the past, however horrible it might be.

_Then they decided they would use you, mold you into their puppet._

A puppet? She clutched at her chest, trying to ease the ache in her heart. Everything she thought she knew was a lie? _She_ was a lie? She had known the Council was not fond of her, sending Kavar and her on "pity missions" as she had heard Kavar term them when he mumbled to himself, thinking she did not hear. But she heard. She heard it all, and now she knew the truth. But what was truth anymore?

_Kavar was using you to fulfill the Council's wishes, and I can see now that he did just that._

These words were the ones that wreaked the most havoc on her wounded mind. Despite how she had tried to deny it to herself, she had believed Kavar had loved her. She was a fool...and she knew that now. But now was a little too late, she feared.

She grasped at her head and hair, glaring daggers at the floor, biting her lower lip so hard that she drew blood. "I can't remember!" she screamed at last.

Mical felt his heart plummet.

"Don't give up! You're strong, Carina, you can remember if you try!"

She stood then, anger flashing across her delicate features, twisting and contorting them.

"No! I have _tried_ to remember! Do you think I haven't? You think I just stood by and let those bastards use me? I tried to fight, Force knows I did. But I can't remember! I try...every day, all the time! My mind knows no past other than what I've been told."

Her voice was tainted with such heartbreak that Mical wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and comfort her, though he knew that'd simply worsen the already bad situation.

He approached her but she put her hand out instinctively, freezing him in his place using the Force. He was certain she didn't know that she'd done that. Anger and frustration were driving her now, and she was letting them. Mical needed to do something, but he was at a bit of a loss as to what that something was.

"You have _no idea_ how I feel," she hissed at him, deadly venom in her tone. "What I've gone through...what I'm _still_ going through."

"I want to help you, Carina," Mical said sincerely, his blue eyes softening in understanding. "But I can't do that if you don't allow me to."

Her emerald eyes shot at him, cold and icy. "I don't even know you."

Mical sucked in a sharp intake of breath. "Yes, yes you do."

"You seem awfully certain," she said, sizing him up momentarily. Mical was now reminded of the same Carina who had tortured him such a long time ago. However, he knew this was just a self-defense mechanism. She was afraid, and they both knew it.

"You may not know me," Mical said after a time, slowly, measured, "but I know _you_."

The release came instantaneously after that, and feeling returned to Mical's limbs. She sank down onto the couch again, her angry green eyes becoming softer, more vulnerable. Through the Force, Mical could feel the pain and confusion radiating off her. She was a mess, suffice it to say. And never had Mical found himself more in love with a mess.

He hesitantly reached out to her, lifting her chin up so that her defiant green eyes would meet his soothing blue gaze. Tears welled up in those heavenly green eyes, and she wanted to look away but couldn't bring herself to. There were those disturbingly blue eyes again, the same ones that had plagued her dreams as of late.

"I'm dangerous," she whispered weakly.

"No, you're not."

She paused.

"Kavar and the council seem to think so. They don't trust me...I've always known it."

"Then show them you are someone to be trusted," Mical offered, not releasing her. It felt nice to feel her soft skin again; it'd been so long since he had last held her.

"It's too late," was her pathetic reply. "I was not a very good person; I still am not."

"It's never too late for redemption," he told her, vehemence in his voice. "We can not be judged by the crimes of our past, but by the events of the present."

She shook her head. "I can't—"

"Yes, you can. I can help you remember and I can help you forget, if that's what you wish," Mical said tenderly.

"I don't even know your name," she sniffed, fighting back tears.

He smiled softly. "Mical," he offered gently.

"Mical," she repeated, testing the name on her tongue to see if it was safe.

Mical's smile widened. This was a step in the right direction…

"I'd like to accept your help," she said, adding sadly as she turned her head away from him, "but I can't."

A step in the right direction…and right off a cliff.

"What? Why not?"

His alarm was palpable, and she felt the nails of his pain in her closed heart.

"As I told you, I am not a good person. I apparently never was. Everything I know is a lie."

She stood and he mirrored the movement.

"That was someone else; that wasn't _you_!"

"Oh really? Then who am I?" Mical remained silent, unsure as to how to answer that. "Exactly."

She began to gather her things, namely her clothes, determined to leave all this behind her as soon as she could. She grabbed a suitcase and began to pack; Mical panicked.

"Wait!"

"I'm done, Mical," she told him, not even looking at him. "What I was is gone, drowned in the recesses of my damaged mind, and who I am now is nothing more than a lie. I have nothing; I am nothing. I see no reason to keep playing this carefully crafted game of the council's."

"Please, you must listen to me!" Mical cried, trying to gain her attention.

"Why? So you can enlighten me about the past I don't remember? No, thank you."

She concluded her packing, taking some spare clothes into the 'fresher, locking the door behind her. Mical stood outside the 'fresher, not having given up yet.

"Carina, I know you're confused and hurt right now, but running away won't solve your problems! By running away, you're only giving into the fear you feel—"

"Am I so wrong to fear?" she cried at him from behind the closed door.

"No," he murmured. "We all fear something. Sometimes that something is ourselves. But if we let that fear drive us, then we are no better than that which is causing the fear."

"Save your Jedi crap for someone who cares," she snapped, her voice angry again. She opened the door, clothed in a dark satin vest and pants, a traveling outfit. "I'm done with the Jedi and everything I ever thought I knew."

She tried to move past him, but he caught her wrist.

"No."

"No?"

"I will not let you run this time; I will not let you disappear into oblivion." Mical's voice was dead serious, solemn.

"You can't stop me," was her stoic reply, her eyes focused and determined.

He released her. She was right; he could do nothing. Just as he could do nothing before when she had fallen to the dark side, he was helpless here too. And he hated that.

Her expression softened and she touched the side of his face. "It is for the better, trust me."

"I've always trusted you," he replied, choking back tears.

"You will be happier forgetting about me, about anything we ever had...sometimes memories are best left as such," she told him tenderly.

"Sometimes they are not." Mical's eyes hardened, as if he were preparing for the final blow.

Tenderly, she lifted her head to his, brushing her lips against his faintly, and Mical was reminded why he loved this woman so much. However, the kiss lasted very briefly, and she pulled away, taking her warm hand away from his cheek.

"Goodbye," she breathed. "And thank you."

He could only nod as she grabbed her suitcase, her lightsaber on her hip, and departed into the night.

Mical stood there for a long time afterward, his fingers touching his lips tentatively. She was gone. Whatever he had hoped for was gone.

"Goodbye," he whispered into the silent night.

Carina's first order of business was to get rid of everything that she could tie to her past and present.

Once she had settled on doing that, she remembered that she had a holorecording—recorded by Kavar to the Jedi Council—on a very important matter of business. She wasn't sure if she had mistakenly grabbed it when frantically packing or purposely done so, but she didn't care. Since she had it, she figured she might as well watch it before destroying it altogether.

She pressed play, and the recording began. As she listened, the frown on her face continued to increase. The holorecording, in the appearance of Kavar, said,

_Dear Council Members,  
As you well know, my padawan and I have been investigating that which you have entreated us to. Carina's memory remains gone, which is better for us. However, her personality seems to be gaining more control with each passing day. This concerns me, but for now, it is no more than a nuisance._

_However, I must digress. Carina is unaware of our true mission right now...and I hope that it stays that way. I have, unfortunately, found a startling piece of news. It is as we have feared; the Exchange is not in charge of the attack on the Republic and the Jedi. Instead, they are simply pawns in a larger game...a game ruled by the Sith. The Sith are back; of this I am sure. You, as well as I, have sensed the dark ebbs in the Force as of late...and it cannot be ignored any longer. We must attempt to find the Sith and stop them, then stop the Exchange, for they are simply puppets of the Sith and not the true threat._

_I will discuss more with you once Carina and I arrive back on Coruscant. As of now, we are currently busy investigating a disturbance on Kuat. I will keep you posted._

_Kavar out._

Carina wanted to smash the holorecording into the ground. Not only had he lied to her, but he was lying to the Jedi Council as well. And the Sith behind the Exchange...was that even possible?

She sighed aloud, leaning against a nearby wall, holding the holorecording tentatively. If she could not destroy this little piece of the present, how would she ever eliminate the past? She had to start over, and by doing so she'd abandon all her teachings and beliefs. She would start anew, as if being reborn as an entirely different person.

She covered her eyes with her hand, weeping silent tears for the past she did not know and the present she was forsaking.

Unknown to her, she was being watched from the shadows…

--

Watched indeed. The little commotion between the young woman and a man, presumably a boyfriend, had not gone unheard. Jene had returned to the complex where he had first seen his targets, satisfied in the knowledge that the remaining targets were not yet here and that they would eventually return to this spot. Instead, he had found the two of them arguing, although through the durasteel walls he had not been able to make out much. Instead, he had decided to follow the young woman who, by the state of her dress and the fact that she had a pack of belongings, appeared to be leaving. He could not allow that, for if she escaped she could be a potential witness. It may have been a good reason, or it may have been an excuse to add another one to his body count, but either way was fine with Jene. He would follow her until she went down an empty hallway, and then he would strike.

She did so, and as she did he stepped out into the open with a carefully calculated _clank_, loud enough so that she would turn around. She turned around, and standing before her was the man who was to be her killer. To her, he was a veritable giant: at 6'3" he stood a full eight inches taller than her, slightly more thanks to his boots. He held a rather large pistol in each hand, and she could see two much larger weapons over his shoulders, but the most striking things were his eyes: The left was dark brown, but the lighting in the hallway was so dim that it looked black. The right, on the other hand, was a sinister yellow color, which looked as if it should be glowing. His tone was empty, devoid of any true emotion, but it gave the impression of mocking.

"Well, well... it is not well that we have such a young lady walking about in such _downscale_ places. Someone could get hurt, you know, being so careless. If you're thinking that I would _require anything of you_, you are mistaken. I am here for your life, nothing else, and so I believe you have a choice to make: are you ready to die, miss?"

Her silence, and the dignified way she held herself even as she faced him, was refreshing in its own way. Most of his victims cowered or pleaded for their lives, but she said nothing, just stared at him with incredible rage that obviously wasn't meant for him. She was angry, but not angry at her killer... that was new. And then, she spoke, and she spoke in such a way that it gave even him pause.

"No."

The word ordinarily would have prompted one quick blaster bolt to the forehead. It was the way she said it, however, that created an entirely different response. His eyes widened, as if he'd just seen a ghost, and he hesitated…then the hesitation became a pause. It was with the tone of utter conviction that reminded him of his late wife, Jana Cyrus. Come to think of it, she _looked_ a lot like Jana too. Her eyes... yes, those emerald green eyes looked exactly like her. He blinked heavily and then looked again, but there was no change.

The only thing he managed to do was whisper the name: "Jana…"

Carina, of course, had no idea what was going on with this guy. First he told her he was going to kill her, then when she said no, he froze up like a faulty droid! She decided to take advantage of this pause, maybe to talk him out of killing her. She somehow doubted that whatever had given him pause would hold him for long, after all.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

The man shook his head and righted himself.

"Yes. I suppose you are entitled to know that much. My name is Jene Cyrus, and my occupation is murder, or the facilitation thereof. I'm an inventor of sorts, you see, but that isn't important. What _is_ important is that I have a contract with the Exchange concerning my blasters and a group who I believe to be friends of yours. Now…I am not exactly sure your name is on my writ, but being that these are friends of yours, I will have to terminate you as well. Can't have anyone running and giving a description of the murderer, now, can we?"

It was all so surreal to her. First, she found a holorecording she wasn't even sure she took that explained the situation with the Exchange and the Sith, and now an Exchange hitman was standing in front of her. There was something else, too…Jene Cyrus. The name seemed familiar somehow. She rolled it around in her head, trying to find some connection. Eventually, she remembered: this was the man whose convenient timing had saved them from the Exchange back on Telos, who had blocked the way so that they could escape, who had shot at their feet just to get them to run. So reckless, so angry...and yet here he was, playing for the other team now. Something wasn't quite right about that.

"You're working for the Exchange? Don't you mean the Sith?"

Now _that_ got a real reaction out of him. His face instantly contorted into the very image of rage, and he raised one of the blasters to her head in a single movement that was almost too fast to follow. And then he bellowed, "Of course not! I would never work with such base filth! How _dare_ you accuse me of that!"

Carina made an effort to remain calm, and she succeeded mostly. Even after she had renounced the Jedi, her training was still useful. Now she just needed a plan…

"Put the gun down. Look, I know that the Sith are who's behind this job. They're using you! I have a holorecording from Master Kavar that proves—"

At that, he laughed, and laughed hard, which did as good a job at cutting her off as anything.

"The drunkard?! Yeah, your so-called 'master' has the credibility of an Echani that stumbles along, piss drunk, and proclaims himself to be Revan reborn!"

That comment affected her far more than she let on, but she continued on anyway.

"Either way, it's still proof. He's a member of the Jedi Council; if anyone knows it's him."

Jene sighed heavily and nodded his head. He seemed willing to believe her, but it wasn't because of any holorecording. He believed her because she believed it, and after years of weeding out liars he knew exactly when someone was telling the truth. Even more than that, though, he believed her because of her eyes, because he saw Jana's eyes, and because Jana had never told a lie her whole life.

Carina didn't know this, but at that point, if she told him that Gizka were the key to all the power in the galaxy, he probably would have believed her.

She took that moment to press the holorecording into his open palm forcefully, directly. It was not good to be indirect with a killer, for they had direct intentions and so it was best to be straightforward with them, to show that she had nothing to hide—or lose—which she didn't.

He looked at her with a quizzical, somewhat unconvinced look, and gruffly asked her, "You're giving it to me?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Why not?" was her simple answer.

"I could easily destroy it; your precious council of Jedi would lose this valuable piece of evidence and you'd no doubt get in trouble with your beloved master." He spat the words out without meaning to. The more he thought about it, the less he believed she was being honest, and the angrier he got.

She seemed embarrassed for a moment, her focused look wavering, and she glanced away. "I no longer owe any allegiance to them."

This bit of information was particularly interesting to Jene. "Oh? So what does that make you, some sort of Jedi rebel?"

"I'm not a Jedi." She said it with such vehemence that Jene could only nod. "Now, you can believe me and watch the holorecording or not believe me and shoot me. Either way, you get answers to questions that I'm sure you have."

The way she finished was so bold, tactless, and it made Jene want to put a blaster bolt through her head, but he found he couldn't do it. She had the same look that reminded him of his wife when she stood up for something she believed in, and there was no trace of deception in those emerald eyes or in her tone. He believed her…and he _hated_ that.

He lowered his gun and let the holorecording play, seeing that she had been right on all accounts. The Jedi master held himself with decorum and wore a grave countenance in the recording; there was no doubt left in Jene's mind that she was telling the truth and that the Sith were in charge of the Exchange.

As soon as that realization hit, Jene knew he needed to kill something and quick or he was going to kill this woman that reminded him so much of his wife—and that he did _not_ want to do. His trigger finger twitched and he holstered his gun quickly, clenching his fists together.

"Are you all right?" queried the feminine voice.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth.

He began to walk away then, caring no longer if the woman was a witness or not. It was highly unlike him, but he couldn't not do it. Walking away was the only option he had at the moment.

Suddenly, there was yet another hitch in his seemingly flawless plan as he felt a delicate hand touch his shoulder and a quiet voice say, "Wait!"

He didn't turn around.

"What do you intend to do?" she asked him.

He let an angry sigh escape his lips.

"Kill them. Preferably in gruesome and painful ways."

"Oh."

He rolled his eyes, keeping his back to her. "Oh?"

She remained silent, knowing he'd turn around eventually to see her response. Which he promptly did. She gave him a soft smile which he frowned at.

"I want to help," she said at last.

He laughed then. Long and hard. He _laughed_.

"Please, don't patronize me," she growled, placing her hands on her hips. She knew it probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, arguing with her would-be killer, but he seemed to be the answer to her problems.

Jene Cyrus, as she knew him, was a mercenary—or something along those lines. He lived by his own rules and was not bothered by what he'd done in the past and didn't care what happened in the future—at least, that was what it seemed like to Carina—and she wanted what he had. He offered a sense of freedom from the restraints of her past, and she wasn't about to let that chance slip away. A mercenary was always moving and rarely dwelling on the past, which was what she wanted most.

"I know I don't look like much, but I can help you," she promised.

"I don't—"

"Give me a chance." She focused her deep emerald eyes on him, her passion to help and get rid of her past strengthening their green color.

"Why?" was all Jene asked her.

She frowned.

"What _they_ did to me was monstrous…and they've created a monster. I can't feel anything anymore…nothing save for fear. Fear of a past I cannot remember and an uncertain future. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I don't want to keep trying to remember. I want to forget. _Everything_. I have nothing more to lose and you have everything to gain. I can help you—and I will not be a nuisance. Of this, I am certain."

She looked at him with bated breath, awaiting the response that would determine her future.

Jene contemplated this for a bit, his brow furrowed in concentration. On one hand, he was never used to having a partner, always thinking that they would one day turn on him or just mess something up. On the other hand, there were plenty of times he could think of where another gun would be useful…

All this, of course, was more the result of his memories of his wife than any real thought. If his logic prevailed, he wouldn't let her. There was no way he would let someone with almost no combat experience, and certainly no experience with a life of crime, follow him. She'd be a nuisance, at best, and a handicap at worst. He couldn't afford to be protecting someone all the time.

And yet there was a part of him that _wanted_ someone to protect. He had failed to protect his family before, but now fate had seemingly given him a second chance. And now, he was stronger, faster, tougher, _better_ for the task. For nearly five minutes, he thought about it.

"So tell me, how much experience do you have with a blaster?"

She thought for a second, then replied simply, "I'm a decent shot."

"Good, good."

He unslung his sun rifle from his shoulder as if to give it to her, but held it just out of her reach.

"No no, not yet. Few things you need to understand first. Can you handle that?"

She merely nodded her head.

"Good. First: understand that I am what you might call a 'homicidal maniac.' I have killed thousands of people; in all probability I will kill thousands more. Can you work with a killer?"

"Yes."

"Next: I am a criminal. I live in the underworld, I work in the underworld, I survive off the underworld. Will you be able to adjust to a life of crime?"

"Yes."

"Moving on: I live for myself. If you mess up and I am not there, I will not hesitate to leave you behind. Do you understand?"

That one was a lie as soon as he said it, but she didn't know that.

"Yes."

"All right, do you—"

"Great Force, _yes_!"

He smiled.

"I was waiting for that response. Here you go."

He handed the carbine rifle to her, and it was only then she realized that, despite its small size, it was very heavy. It was a wonder he could carry it around all the time, let alone hold it so easily in one hand as he just did. For his part, he saw her struggling with it and chuckled lightly.

"That gun there is like nothing you've ever seen before, miss..."

"Carina."

"Yes, Carina. Yes, that one is my own design. It will make short work of whatever you use it on, but it does have a tendency to get a little hot. Watch yourself with it. Now then, we should be going. That bounty doesn't collect itself, you know."

And so he crept out of the corridor, his new partner in tow. Now all he had to do was find his targets again…and hope that instructing Carina in the ways of the underground code of drugs, sex, and death wouldn't be too difficult. Or long, for that matter.


	18. Confrontation at the Docking Ports

Trinn ran through the darkness of Kuat, fighting bitterly not to let the tears run down her face. Memories of Jason before his death flooded her mind…

_The Jedi Temple on Onderon was off limits to anyone other than the Jedi, but Trinn had learned long ago how to bypass the Force. Throw up a few strong emotions, and no one would ever know she was there. Jason had said to meet him in the south hall behind the fountains. Walking as if she belonged, she made her way through the temple. The fountain room was all but empty, save for one meditating padawan. Trinn quickly threw up a strong emotion of hate and made her way past the padawan. Jason wasn't in the hallway when she arrived. Trinn made herself comfortable against the nearest wall and tried her best to blend in, but some how her Republic combat boots, green uniform, and ebony jacket stood out prominently against the temple's white walls. Trinn closed her eyes and took in a deep sigh. The sound of the fountains could be heard ringing through the hall, but nothing else made a sound. Trinn hated coming to the temple. The silence was deafening and almost drove her mad every time she was exposed to it. Jason found comfort in it; Trinn found uneasiness._

_Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle touch to her arm. She slowly opened her eyes and they were met by her lover's. Jason stood looking at her with a wide smile on his face._

_"Hello, love." His voice was barely a whisper, but it still held the soothing tone that gave her goose bumps._

_Trinn stood away from the wall and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. She could feel his arm muscles ripple as he wrapped them around her. She rested her head against his chest and listened to his heart beat wildly. He nuzzled his face in her hair and sighed, sending a blast of air into her ear. She jerked and then let out a quiet laugh. She could feel him smile, which made her smile wider. She could not remember ever being this happy…_

Trinn finally stumbled into an ally and slammed her back against a wall. Slowly sliding to the ground, she finally released the tears she had been fighting back. She buried her face in her hands and let out all of her anguish. For six years she had buried her memories of Jason and the pain that came from them deep within her. Then she took this job and suddenly she was nothing but a wreck of emotions.

As the tears streamed down her face, past memories flooded her mind with a new pain. A sharp, piercing, condemning pain…

_Jason pulled away from her and kissed her forehead. Trinn didn't need the Force to tell her something was wrong. Jason brushed a stray hair away from her face and then looked deep within her eyes._

_"What's wrong?" she whispered, caressing the side of his cheek with the back of her index finger._

_"Nothing, I was just admiring your beauty." He smiled and kissed her cheek._

_"You're sweet, but I am not blind. Something is bothering you." Her eyes held firm, but concern was woven in her tone._

_"It's just the current situations with the Mandalorians…" He broke his gaze and looked down the hall toward the fountains. "Things are not improving."_

_"I know." Trinn's voice was gentle. "My squadron will probably be sent out to the front lines soon. The Republic has had a lot of casualties."_

_Jason nodded, and let out a shaky sigh, "The Republic is falling, and the council is letting it." He looked back at Trinn, tears brimming in his eyes. "How many more have to die before they will do something?"_

_Trinn could feel her heart breaking as she watched the man she loved be tortured by the actions of the council. She swallowed hard and put a hand on his arm. "The council is wise; I am sure they know what they are doing."_

_Jason pulled away from her and stood back. A tear streamed down his face. "I will not let them send you to the front lines. I will not wait here for you to die. I won't, Trinn. I can't!"_

_The sudden rise in his voice made her flinch. "It's my duty, Jason. Just like it is your duty to stand with the council." She looked down at the floor as tears now threatened to overtake her own eyes._

_"The council is slow in making their decisions. By the time they will want to intervene, it will be too late." He took Trinn's shoulders in his hands and looked once more into her eyes. "But there is a Jedi who will lead us to move now, to save the Republic…" He brushed that same strand of hair away from her face. "…To save us."_

_Trinn stood looking into Jason's eyes for a moment. "Jason…"_

_"Please, love. I could not live with myself if you were killed while I was sitting here waiting on the actions of the council."_

_"I will support you in anything you decide to do."_

_Trinn nodded and then kissed him on the cheek. Jason wrapped his arms around her again, and held her tight. It was a forbidden love, a secret affair, a pure love. Nothing would change his mind, and she would follow him wherever he went. Trinn melted into his embrace and felt comforted by his renewed spirit._

There was more to her memories, but Trinn fought them back. She had wasted enough time with her emotions. The past was in the past; nothing could change that. What she wanted now was to collect her payment for the job she was hired to do and get the hell out of this cesspit.

Trinn slowly rose to her feet and wiped her eyes. She would wait until tomorrow to confront Kavar again. With how he was drinking, he was far from gone by now. She stepped out of the alleyway and looked into the night sky. The stars barely shone through the haze that rested over Kuat. Trinn sighed and began to walk back to the apartments; she needed sleep before she could continue.

As she was making her way back, a ship streaking through the sky caught her eye. As she watched it come closer to the docking area, she knew she would receive no sleep this night.

--

Carth Onasi solemnly looked out of _The Sunbeam's_ cockpit as the vessel entered Kuat's atmosphere. It wouldn't be long before they finally landed, and the admiral released a sigh, displaying his obvious relief. The trip to the planet had been long and arduous, as it was filled with much tension among the various crew members. Carth's brow creased as the recent memories flooded his brain… In such a short time, the crew of the_ Sunbeam _had endured so much. Not only were they separated from their friends and loved ones, but they also worried for their lives. None of them could guess what was occurring upon Kuat's surface and it only increased their sense of dread. Furthermore, two of their friends were lying injured in the medbay, causing the ship to take on an even more somber atmosphere.

_But everything should amend itself soon_, Carth thought hopefully.

Once they were able to land, their two fallen crew members, Mithic and Evy, would finally be taken to a proper medical facility and everyone would finally be reunited for the first time in what seemed like a cruel eternity…

_And Rani…my love…_

Unsurprisingly, Carth's thoughts strayed to Rani as a glimmer of hope was renewed within him. It seemed that any time spent apart from her beauty was far too long in his mind, and he honestly could not wait to see her lovely face again. The couple had a lot of catching up to do and he was certainly looking forward to doing just that. A smile quickly spread across the admiral's face as he allowed himself to fantasize about precisely what their reunion could lead to…

"Carth? Hey, Carth!"

In the midst of his thoughts, Carth was interrupted by a feminine voice from behind him. Slightly startled, he pivoted to see Igrayne standing in the entrance of the cockpit. She seemed to be awaiting a reply to a question he hadn't heard, and he immediately looked apologetic.

"Oh, Igrayne, I'm sorry. I was…reflecting on some things," he said vaguely, rubbing the back of his neck. "Was there something you required?"

A wan smile graced Igrayne's features in an expression of amusement.

"You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?" It was a statement and not a question.

"No, I didn't," Carth said. "But forgive me if my mind seems elsewhere…"

"It's all right. Lately, it seems we all have a lot to think about," Igrayne stated meaningfully. "But anyway, I just asked how long it would be until we land."

"Only a few minutes, if the docking authorities don't create a hassle. You might want to inform the others."

Igrayne nodded. "Will do, Carth."

As she turned to exit the cockpit, Igrayne was stopped in her tracks when Carth called back to her.

"Oh, and there is one more thing…"

"Yes?"

"Have you seen Dustil anywhere?"

"No…no, I haven't," Igrayne said, shaking her head. "I haven't seen him since we boarded the ship. He seems to enjoy his solitude."

"Yes, so I've noticed…"

Carth's brown eyes were fixed on hers with a sincere gaze, but they seemed slightly out of focus, as if something deeper was on his mind that he couldn't quite put into words.

"Well, If you see him," Carth continued, "let him know we'll be landing soon… He seems to listen to you."

His words sounded more like an order than a statement, as was Carth's nature, but there was a definitive note of sorrow in his voice, undoubtedly due to the fact that Dustil seemed to disregard anything said by his father. Igrayne sympathized deeply with the admiral, as it was apparent he still loved his prodigal son despite his rebelliously dark nature. She only wished that Dustil would open up to his father and finally make amends.

She found him in the cargo hold, as expected. He seemed to be enjoying himself just fine until she presented herself. Dustil's features contorted into a characteristic sneer, but Igrayne knew he was just doing it to keep up appearances.

"What do _you_ want?"

"It might please you to know we've landed."

"Oh, that's the shudder I felt?"

"Yes, Dustil. Get packed and meet us up in the main hold. We're going to comm the others and meet them soon. Your father is trying to contact them as we speak."

Dustil relaxed in a reclining position on the small bunk in there. He had been lying supine when she first came in.

"I think I'll just sit right here. It sounds like you still have a lot to do before we disembark. You just come get me when you're ready to leave."

"Excuse me?" Igrayne asked, mildly annoyed. "I'm sorry, was that a command I heard?"

Dustil smirked as she stormed toward the door, clearly peeved. Her hand paused on the frame, however, and she used it to turn herself around. Her eyes locked meaningfully on his, and she knew she had his full attention.

"You should spend more time with your father, you know. He misses you. He feels like he doesn't know you."

Dustil snorted.

"And what would a visit from Igrayne be without words of advice?"

"I'm serious. He asked me to speak to you because he doesn't feel like he can come to you himself."

"Well, cry me a river!" Dustil said, shooting upright in the bed. "If the old man wants to talk to me, he knows where to find me!"

"I thought you two had resolved your differences."

"What's it to you if we have or haven't? I mean, do you really care what happens with us?"

"It hurts me to see Carth like this," she stated to effect.

"Just Carth?"

The knot that had been forming into her throat was nearly choking her, but she swallowed it as best she could.

"Dustil, I—"

"So are you still going to see that Zabrak now that things have changed?"

Igrayne dropped her voice to a whisper, cautious that someone passing by might unintentionally eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Nothing's changed. I'll go back to Bao-Dur and you'll go back to…well…being _you_."

"Am I really that terrible?"

She finally found her strength again, so she used it to propel herself across the room. When she looked back, Dustil was sitting again, his head bowed slightly.

"Just…please talk to your father. He needs you and you don't even know it."

With that, she exited the cargo hold, leaving Dustil alone with his tortured thoughts.

Wishing to get as far away from Dustil as possible, Igrayne headed off to the medbay where the majority of the ship's inhabitants were resting. It disturbed her that her thoughts unconsciously drifted to her most recent encounter with Dustil, and she shook her head, trying to rid herself of the unwanted thoughts. The man was infuriating. Or more appropriately, the _boy_ was infuriating…and yet, Igrayne couldn't dismiss the undeniable and somewhat inappropriate chemistry between the two of them. Bao-Dur would certainly not approve, and it only angered her to think of her situation…but she would sort everything out when the time was right. For the moment, she had other things to take care of.

Deciding not to dwell on it any further, Igrayne quietly entered the darkened room of the medical bay and paused shortly after coming through the doorway. The scene before her only dampened her spirits further.

Mithic and Evy were laying in two separate cots, with various pieces of medical equipment hooked up to them. Both had been critically injured during their encounter on Caine and Cody's ship, and with her medical skills, Igrayne was able to stabilize both of her friends and make them relatively comfortable for the trip to Kuat. Atton and Tren had not left their side as they helped Igrayne with her patients. In fact, they had not bothered leaving the medbay for any extended period of time. Igrayne knew that both men were deeply concerned for Evy, as she was very close to both of their hearts. Although she was confident Evy and Mithic would make a full recovery once they arrived on Kuat and were taken to a proper medical facility, it did not ease the aching in her heart every time she looked upon them.

As Igrayne finally stepped fully into the room, she was mindful of Tren, who had fallen fast asleep on a makeshift cot on the floor. Tren's injuries had been minimal, but it was understandable that his terrifying experience at the hands of Caine and Cody had exhausted both his mind and body. Igrayne carefully stepped over him and came to stand between the cots of her two injured companions, but it hardly caught the attention of Atton, who was sitting in a chair beside Evy's bed. He had faithfully remained by her side during the entire trip, and it warmed Igrayne's heart to see such affection despite the couple's earlier problems.

"Hey, Atton," she said gently by way of greeting. "How long has Tren been out?"

He hesitated a moment before speaking, his eyes firmly fixed on Evy's deathly pale features.

"About a half hour now," he said quietly. "He was hurting pretty badly so I told him to get some rest."

Igrayne raised an eyebrow in concern as her gaze fell upon Tren. "Did you give him anything for the pain?"

"Yeah, I did."

"That's good. He should be fine, then…"

Igrayne then proceeded to look over Mithic and check his vitals. She pulled back his covers slightly to examine the bloodied bandages wrapped tightly around his torso that covered the grievous wound he had received during their rescue mission. The blast could have very well killed him and the man was lucky to even be alive. It was remarkable he was able to survive such a wound, but then again, Igrayne's companions always seemed to be full of surprises. Mithic seemed to be resting comfortably, as he was still under the effect of a powerful sedative, and so she moved onto Evy.

Evy did not seem to be faring quite as well despite the fact her wounds were not nearly as life-threatening as Mithic's were. The woman had suffered several broken ribs and various bumps and bruises from Caine's abuse, including a painfully swollen leg. Luckily, her leg was not broken as they had initially thought it was, but it was badly bruised and would still take some time to heal properly. The gash in her side from the medical facility had also reopened but would mend quickly with proper medical care. Although Evy was undoubtedly in a great deal of physical pain, her broken body would soon be healed. Her broken spirit, however, was another issue entirely and that was what worried Igrayne the most…

As Igrayne evaluated Evy's condition, her gaze frequently shifted to Atton, who looked quite grim himself. Since his separation from Evy, the scoundrel's health only seemed to be plummeting. He was paler than usual and considerably thinner. Igrayne prayed that Evy would be healed soon, for both their sakes…and that whatever was left to be said between the couple would finally be addressed.

"So," Igrayne said when she had finished looking over at Evy. "We should be able to leave the ship relatively soon and finally get these two to a proper facility. Carth is working on contacting the local medical emergency center to come get them."

Atton nodded, with his gaze still fixed upon Evy. He stared at her solemnly while he gently caressed the soft skin of her arm with his index finger, as if any sort of physical contact would only cause her more pain.

"When do you think she'll wake up?"

The question caught Igrayne slightly off guard, but she answered him anyway.

"I don't know, Atton…she's been through a lot. Her body is still in shock and she's likely to be out of it for a while. I gave her some fairly potent medications."

"I figured as much," Atton said. "I just…want to talk to her."

"I'm sure the two of you have a lot to catch up on," Igrayne replied sympathetically.

"We do. I just…I can't take this anymore. Being so close to her and not being able to tell her how I feel. I have so much I need to tell her…"

Atton ceased his caressing of Evy's arm and settled for holding her hand within his as he stroked his fingers through her golden hair. His expression was one of regret as he looked upon her.

"I was a fool to leave her, you know. I can't help but feel like all of this is my fault. If I had never left her, this would have never happened."

"Atton, none of this is your fault," Igrayne said with sincerity. "It's nobody's fault. Sometimes things happen that are beyond our control, and it won't do you any good beating yourself up over it. I'm sure Evy doesn't want you to do that."

He shook his head, looking tortured. "But I left her, Igrayne. I wasn't there for her when she needed me the most. I abandoned her. I can't imagine what she thinks of me now…"

"She loves you, Atton," Igrayne countered. "You know that. And what matters most is that you're there for her _now_. You both may have regrets and Force knows, we all do…but these next few days are going to be hard on her, and she's going to need you by her side. I have faith in the two of you. I'm sure you'll sort things out."

Atton seemed to consider her words for several moments before speaking again.

"Yeah, well… thanks for the advice."

Igrayne offered him a smile and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading toward the door.

"No problem. I'll let you know when we're ready to leave. But for now I'm going to see how things are progressing with Carth. Hopefully it won't be much longer until we make contact with the others."

Igrayne exited the room with one last glance at her companions, once again being careful not to trip over Tren, and she headed to the cockpit. It wouldn't be long until she was reunited with the rest of her friends and Bao-Dur…and her heart gave an unexpected leap at the thought.

But she wasn't sure if it leapt for joy or dread.

--

Staying up all night wasn't the hard part. The hard part was waiting.

Rani glanced down at the simple wrist chrono Tren had gifted her on her last birthday. Four standard hours had passed since Jene Cyrus had delivered his condemnation. They had no plan, no defense, and two very wounded crew members in the royal health care facility of Kuat. Rani sighed and leaned back against the wall, shifting her weight to prevent her crossed leg from falling asleep. It had been a little over an hour since the _Sunbeam_ had landed, and still there was no definite word on Evy's condition.

Rani looked around to the others sitting in the small, sterile waiting room. HK-47 was remotely the only source of entertainment. Since he had rejoined his reluctant master, he seemed to take his job very seriously, marching up and down the hallway outside the room, pulling out his blasters on unsuspecting passersby whom he deemed suspicious. The droid only served to multiply Rani's anxiety, as she practically jumped out of her seat every time she heard his warning metallic voice. It was a wonder he hadn't killed some innocent yet with his voracity for violence.

Bao-Dur sat quietly in the furthest corner, in obvious meditation. His eyes closed, his lips relaxed. He looked tranquil, but Rani knew that beneath his calm surface lay a torrent of thought. In complete contrast, Atton paced the length of a room like a hungry, caged Kath hound. He was so tense that Rani could see the blue veins pulsating on top of the tensed muscles of his neck. She wished she could comfort him somehow, but she knew him well enough to know that with Evy's health in limbo, there was no calming him.

On the other side of the room, Indy took up an entire bench, lying along the length of it with her legs and arms crossed over each other and her fedora over her face to block out the unnaturally white light of the facility. To the casual observer, it seemed as if the archaeologist-cum-smuggler was taking a restful nap, but under the rim of her tawny fedora, Indy stared into the shadow of her hat. Han stood at the foot of the bench, leaning his side against the cold metal wall, looking down at Indy's form. As Rani watched, he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck as if trying to stave off a tension headache.

The final soul in the room, Dustil, cleared his throat, and Rani looked beside her where he was seated. Their eyes met, and Rani was struck at just how much he looked like Carth. Without thinking, her eyes roamed his face, noticing the similarities: the same deep-set eyes and low brows, the aristocratic nose, the soft, gentle sloping of his lips down to the strong, masculine jaw. Her gaze moved back to the intense eyes he shared with his father, and Rani suddenly blushed faintly, realizing her unabashed study of his features.

Rani hadn't seen Carth in days, and it was taking a definite toll on her. The admiral and Igrayne were inside, presumably helping to make decisions on Evy and Mithic's behalf. The ex-senator hopeful wished she could see Carth, even if it was only for a moment, just to renew her faith.

The wait was becoming almost unbearable. Rani knew she wasn't the only one feeling it. She stood up, and everyone's eyes fell on her.

"I'm going to figure out what's going on," she said, her voice a mixture of exhaustion and impatience.

"I'll go with you," Atton practically growled.

"We should wait here. Igrayne or the admiral will inform us as soon as they can," Bao-Dur spoke up.

Rani saw the wisdom in the Zabrak's words. After all, with Evy and Mithic being as frightfully injured as they were, their inquiries might only be a distraction. Atton didn't seem to see it that way, however.

"I'm not waiting here for another second while Force-knows-what is happening to Evy in there," Atton said, pointing violently toward the hospital rooms.

Just as Atton began to make his way to the door, Tren came in. His deep blue eyes were ringed with dark circles and his arm was in a sling, but other than that he seemed to be in good condition. The entire room stared at Tren, nervously awaiting any information he might have.

"My right wrist is sprained," he said, almost offhandedly.

"What?!" Indy exclaimed, expressing everyone's confusion at his casual manner.

"Well, really, it's a good thing because I'm left-handed," Tren explained, smirking and waving with his left hand.

Everyone just glared at him.

Rani was the first to recover and speak up. "Well?! How are Evy and Mithic?!"

"I don't know the whole story, but they'll live," he answered in a serious tone.

"When can I see her?" Atton asked.

"I don't know, bro…"

Atton let out a frustrated breath. Tren put his good arm around Atton's shoulders and bent his head forward.

"She'll be fine, Atton. Evy's a fighter; she'll never give up on life, you know that," Tren said in a quiet, comforting tone.

Atton said nothing, his brow creased in concern.

"Besides, she still has plenty of work to do on you," Tren added, elbowing Atton in the tummy.

Atton didn't smile, but a bit of the tension fell from his face. "I just want to see that she's okay."

Igrayne finally showed up, much to the relief of the others.

"All right, Evy and John are both stable and are expected to make a full recovery."

A collective sigh of relief sounded about the room.

"Can I see her?" Atton echoed.

Igrayne shook her head. "There's not much to see, Atton. They are both in kolto tanks, and both are under heavy sedatives right now."

"Where's Carth?" Rani questioned now that she was reassured her friends would survive.

"He'll be out shortly," Igrayne answered. "Wait, where's Mical?"

Rani shrugged. "Last time we saw him was at the apartment where the Jedi, Kavar, and Carina were. Mical went in to speak with her, but we have not been able to contact either of them since then."

"Where is Master Kavar?"

"Master Kavar was taken to the nearby apartments by Bastila. He was…indisposed," Bao-Dur said, his eyes not leaving Igrayne's face.

Rani suddenly realized that Bao-Dur and Igrayne had not seen each other since their fateful separation on Citadel Station. Neither made a move toward each other, which Rani found a bit odd, but she justified their behavior considering their dangerous situation and the fact that they were both successful Jedi.

"Indisposed?" Atton scoffed. "More like piss drunk."

Igrayne raised a dark arched brow. "What?"

"Wait a second here," Indy said, jumping in, "you weren't surprised by our mention of Carina. How long have you known she was alive?"

"Long story," Igrayne dismissed. "Right now we need to decide what our plan of action is. It's best not to wait around while a hunter waits to collect his bounty on our heads."

"What can we do?" Han asked. "This guy has way too many weapons and not enough sanity to be underestimated."

Indy nodded. "I agree. He took out all those people after us on Telos…and survived. I say we hightail it out of here."

Before any more discussion could continue, Admiral Carth Onasi met with the rest of his crew. As soon as his girlfriend saw the flash of orange of his jacket, she launched herself through the small crowd and into his arms. Tears sprung to her eyes as he wrapped his strong arms around her. Embarrassed by her apparent weakness, she buried her face in his chest.

"Force is it good to see you, Gorgeous."

The sound of his husky voice was all it took to push Rani over the edge. She had been forcing herself to have a strong front from the second she, from the viewport of the _Centurion's Blade_, watched as she left him on Telos. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, and her body shook with sobs.

Carth said no more as her body tensed in his arms. He stroked her hair away from her wet face and kissed her solidly. "I'm here now, Rani. We'll get through this together."

Rani sniffled and choked back her sobs, remembering that the rest of their friends stood around awkwardly during their little reunion. "I'm sorry…"

He whispered to her, "No apologies, Beautiful. I'm proud of you."

Still holding firmly onto his love, the admiral spoke to the others. "We need to get off of this planet as soon as possible. Any ideas?"

--

"This is never going to work," Cody whispered to Caine from their hiding place beneath the floorboards of the hallway just outside the cockpit.

"Oh ye of little faith," Caine smirked, clutching the weapon in her hand menacingly. "Just get ready to shoot."

"If this works," Cody told her, shaking his head. "If this works, I'll owe you a drink."

"You will owe me more than that," Caine replied, but then she paused as footsteps ran over their hiding spot. "This is it. Get ready."

A moment passed and shots rang out before falling to silence.

"Wait for my lead," Caine whispered to Cody, who nodded.

"Mercenaries," an unknown voice said from above. "I don't know why we even need them."

"Let's just hope that this new guy does better than these two," another replied.

"'New guy?'" Cody whispered.

"Yeah, these two sure were pathetic!"

"'Pathetic?'" Caine croaked, eyes widened. "'Pathetic?!'"

"Uh oh," Cody said, preparing his blaster just as Caine shoved off the panel above them and jumped out, guns blazing.

"I'll show you who is pathetic!" she yelled. A haze of gunfire ensued in which one of the onboard guards fell and the other was left disarmed.

Cody frowned, never even having a chance to get off a single shot. Then he sighed and, stepping over the dead guard carefully so as not to ruin his perfect white boots, walked over to the pilot seats that reeked of burning flesh. He yanked back the cloak covering the carnage and revealed the charred remains of several Gizka tied together.

"I can't believe that worked," he mumbled to himself, and turned, just in time to see Caine put a blaster to the remaining guard's head.

"Tell me about this new guy," Caine demanded coldly.

But a few minutes later, the man was pacing out of the ship with a brand new vest of explosives. A few minutes after that, the merchant ship was tearing away from the Sith at full speed, a giant explosion and a ship worth of Gizka in their wake, and a new destination and new determination before them.

"I really don't believe that worked," Cody told her, aghast.

Caine smiled and winked, but then she frowned as she realized she was sitting in a burnt pile of Gizka remains. "Sort of," she told him. "I have a feeling this stench will haunt us for quite some time."

"Better than being dead," Cody offered.

Caine took another sniff and stuck out her tongue in repulsion. "That is a matter of opinion."

--

A tiny speck of light dominated the center of his vision. For a moment, he thought it was a star. Then he blinked and his blurred frame of vision expanded to include a head full of dark hair. The figure was leaning over him, checking for life signs, but all he cared about was the throbbing pain in his head that signaled the beginnings of a hangover.

"Master Kavar?" the distinctly feminine voice asked. As Kavar came to, he could feel a small, cold hand braced against his forearm, preventing him from sitting up.

"No, Master. You're in no condition to be up and about just yet. It's a wonder you're still alive with all the alcohol you've consumed."

Kavar's memory was hazy, but it was quickly jogged by the word _alcohol_. The last thing he recalled was staring down into a seemingly bottomless mug of Juma. It was bitter, but it helped mask the lingering taste of the three or four Corellian ales he had heretofore consumed. Next thing he knew, here was the young Jedi Bastila, nursing him in the Kuati apartment he shared with Carina—or used to share. Not that he remembered much of that encounter, either. He was still pretty piss drunk.

"Just rest a while, Master, and I will contact the council."

"I made my last report some time ago, but I haven't delivered it yet," Kavar said, blinking back fatigue. "It was in the hololetter I left here…somewhere." A quick scan of his surroundings told him he'd misplaced it. "Blast it. Now I've gone and lost my hololetter."

Bastila set about tidying up the apartment, picking up various overturned items that Kavar had collided with on his unceremonious entrance.

"Really, Master Kavar. Your carelessness is appalling."

"Don't lecture me, Bastila," Kavar said, though he couldn't possibly pronounce her name without an added syllable. His tongue just wouldn't allow it. Bastila, obviously miffed, began scooping up scattered items more furiously than before.

"What happened at the cantina?"

A smug smirk supplanted the scowl permanently etched onto Bastila's face.

"Yes, I suppose you wouldn't remember. You hardly knew who _I_ was. After the way you behaved, the bartender threatened to remove you. Had I not stepped in when I did, you might still have been fighting those two Bith."

"I fought Bith?"

Bastila's eyes widened as if trying to recall the particulars.

"And two Rodians, and a Devaronian, and an Aqualish. I believe some threats were made, too, on the lives of a few snickering bystanders…"

"All right, all right. That's enough."

"Master Kavar, engaging in bar fights is not exactly keeping a low profile. And now you have endangered the success of this mission _and_ our lives. I shall have to report back to Master Vrook on this. Force knows what set you off like that."

"Carina." He said her name like it was poison. There was enough inflection to garner Bastila's attention.

"Of course. Where is she? And what has she done now?"

"It's not what she's done. It's what _I've_ done."

"What do you mean? Shall you summon your padawan, or shall I do it?"

She scooped up the small transmitter Kavar used to communicate with Carina and let her thumb press the button as she prepared to speak into it.

"It's no use, Bastila." Despite his drunkenness, Kavar still seemed to muster enough strength for that command. "I've told her…told her everything."

Bastila's eyes widened, and she set aside the transmitter. She was kneeling in front of Kavar now with a look of trepidation.

"What do you mean _told her_?"

"About everything. About the fact that I've been lying to her. About the fact that she's not who she thinks she is… Shall I go on, or does this suffice?" he said with just a hint of irritability.

"My word. This means that—"

"She won't be coming back, yes. I know that already. Whatever life the Council had carved out for her was just tarnished because I couldn't keep my damn mouth shut."

"Not necessarily."

"And he—" Kavar continued, undeterred.

"_He_?"

"Mical. He interrupted us to bring all this upon her. He instigated it. Of course, I should have known the truth is never easy. I should have been honest with her all along. Now you see the consequences of my actions?"

She took a seat beside him. "Just because she's glimpsed a taste of her past doesn't mean she'll run forever from it—or from _you_."

"She did before. All she did was run. What makes you think now is any different?"

He said this with such conviction that she had to consider the validity of his words.

"Yes, I suppose you are right. I see now why the council took the proper _precautions_. I shall alert Master Vrook that we may have a potential problem on our hands."

She made for the door, prepared to deliver the message, when something caused her to stop on the threshold.

"Master Kavar, I have a question. You said Mical interrupted you and Carina to confront her with this news. What is it you two were doing?"

Kavar would have blushed were his capillaries not already stimulated by the alcohol.

"That is none of your business!" he snapped.

Bastila, pale with understanding, merely observed, "I see. Some things are better left unsaid."

That was a statement Kavar now had the rest of his besotted evening to analyze.

--

Rani felt better for two reasons. One was that Carth was back at her side, and the second was that they had a plan. Well, it wasn't much of a plan as it was a proposal for action, but either way, at least they were doing _something_.

The sky was turning from black to grey, signaling that dawn was not far off. Rani pulled Carth's orange jacket tighter around her, grateful for its warmth in the biting cold. She should have been watching where she was going, but she took a second to glance up at Carth, who walked by her side. His jaw was set in a firm line, a testament to his intense thinking. His arms and chest were tensed, revealing his sculpted muscles beneath the standard-issue black Republic undershirt he was wearing. The cold did not seem to bother him at all as he led them to the docking ports.

Carth had covered her with his jacket as soon as they had exited the medical facility. Han, observing this, had taken off his dark brown vest and given it to Indy. For a few seconds, Indy had held the thin garment in her hands, staring at it before scoffing and throwing it right back at Han, while Tren had a good belly laugh at their expense.

Despite their dire circumstances, Rani giggled a bit at the recent memory, breaking the relative silence of the group.

"Something up, Beautiful?"

Rani looked up at Carth, instantly hiding her amused expression. "Uh, no."

"Yeah right, Sis. I heard you; you were laughing," Tren supplied. "And at a time like this," he finished, making a soft, repeating "tsk" sound.

"Oh please, Tren. All you do is make jokes. If things are too tense for you, you crack a joke. If you are getting annoyed, you make fun of someone. If things are getting too scary, you—"

"Nothing is too scary for me," Tren said, puffing out his chest.

Just then in a nearby shipyard, a machine whirred to life, startling them. Tren promptly dropped to the ground, somersaulting and then covering his head with his left arm and cradling his right arm to his body as if bracing for an attack. The rest of the group just stared at him before Rani, Indy, and Han burst into laughter.

"And you were saying, Tren?" Rani asked, a smug grin on her face.

Tren stood up, brushing dirt off his clothes and ignoring the laughter. "Hey, I was just making sure I still got it…"

"All right, all right, let's try to draw as little attention to ourselves as we can," Carth interjected.

"So what exactly are we going to be doing at the docking bays?" Han asked, remembering that their survival depended on their actions.

"We check the _Sunbeam_ to see if it has sustained any serious damage. It needs to be in top condition if we are to outrun Cyrus and get to safety," Carth explained.

"Well, what about the _Blade_?" Indy questioned.

"What?" Carth asked, not sure what she was getting at.

"You know, the _Centurion's Blade_…my ship…_the_ ship that got all of us through everything that happened before the battle on Dantooine?" Indy reminded the admiral.

"Indy, no offense, but the _Blade_, however trusty it is, just doesn't measure up to the condition of the _Sunbeam_," Carth said.

"That's the understatement of the century," Han muttered.

"You stay out of this," Indy ordered, poking Han's chest before turning her attention back to Carth. "I'm not leaving my ship here."

"Indy, it won't be safe. Once Cyrus catches wind of us bailing, he'll be on our tails," Carth answered. "And the _Blade_ is a good ship, but it needs some serious maintenance."

"I don't think you need to worry about that, Admiral," Indy answered with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Han recognized _that_ expression. "What did you do?"

"Let's just say I took care of it. The _Blade_ should be running very smoothly by now," Indy said with a knowing look.

Carth knew enough to know not to ask. "Okay, you two go check the _Blade_; we'll go check the _Sunbeam_. Make sure you check for any tampering, and we'll meet up afterward."

Indy nodded and then tugged on Han's sleeve. "Come on. Let's go check my baby out."

Carth, Rani, and Tren continued on their way toward the docking bay in front of them. Carth knew they were taking a huge risk by coming to check out their transportation, but he was hoping that by all of them being in different places, it may divide Jene Cyrus' attention. It was imperative they secured a way off the planet or else they would have to come up with a different plan entirely.

Much to Carth's relief, the docking bay with the _Sunbeam_ parked in it was empty. He was sure the bay was monitored, but he hoped the docking authorities were not in league with Cyrus. Perhaps with Indy "buying off" Pruak with the replica of the holocron, and with Igrayne's connections, however slim they were now, they would catch a few breaks.

First, they all circled the ship, inspecting any sustained damage (which was minimal) and looking for any possible tampering. When Carth was satisfied with their preliminary inspection, he decided they needed to check out the inside, too.

"I'm going to board the ship. I want you to stay out here with Tren, and you both can keep watch for intruders. Call me on the commlink if you need anything."

Rani nodded gravely, her hand slinking down to the blaster under her cloak.

"Here, you can have this back now," Rani said, taking off Carth's jacket. She needed to be able to move quickly if anything was to happen. Carth took it from her and slid it on in one fluid move.

"Thanks, Gorgeous," he said, kissing her forehead. "Be careful."

"Not in front of the kids!" Tren exclaimed, covering his eyes with his left hand.

Rani made an exasperated sound and rolled her eyes as Carth lowered the ramp on the _Sunbeam_ so he could board. Tren stood watch at the main entrance to the docking bay while Rani pretended to know what she was doing by circling the ship. A good twenty standard minutes had passed, and Rani was getting even tenser as she began to pace up and down one side of the ship, losing herself in her own thoughts. Would Evy and Mithic be well enough to survive their journey off Kuat? Would they even get off Kuat? Would they even be alive in nineteen hours?

"Stop doing that! You're freakin' me out!" Tren ordered, surprising Rani at the end of one of her paces.

"Tren!" Rani berated, punching him solidly in the stomach. "Don't startle me like that!"

"Startle you? Shouldn't you be paying attention to your surroundings?" Tren asked teasingly.

"Of all the arrogant gimps to be stuck with…" Rani grumbled.

"Was that supposed to be an insult, Sis?"

Rani stared irritably at Tren's face before realizing he was just trying to calm her down. In spite of how much he could drive her up the wall at times, she had truly missed him and worried about him while they were separated.

"See, this is what I meant by you joking all the time," Rani said, cracking a smile and punching Tren again in the abs, but this time much more gently. He pretended not to notice either blow.

"It works though, doesn't it?" Tren said, breaking into his toothy grin.

"Sorry to interrupt the sibling bonding here…"

Rani and Tren, both startled, looked to the origin of the voice.

"Trinn…" Rani started, recognizing the tall woman.

"Who is this?" Tren asked, immediately turning on "flirtatious mode" at the appearance of the pretty stranger.

Trinn ignored the younger man, focusing on Rani instead. "Where's Kavar?"

"Kavar?" Rani repeated, thinking.

"Yeah, you know, the Jedi master with the authority abuse problems."

Trentyn and Rani both raised a dark brow. Trinn's tone was suggesting…

"You two don't know? Kavar's very _close_ to his padawan—that is, until she met back up with her old boyfriend and then took off. Seems like Carina has a thing for blondes." Trinn's offhand manner offset the dramatic information she was spreading.

"Oh, Force," Rani said, raising her hand to her forehead. If Mical met with Carina, he undoubtedly told her about her past, and Rani knew Carina would react badly to that. Like they needed any more complications…

"Anyway, know where Kavar's at?" Trinn asked again.

"I don't know… Bastila dragged him off, presumably to their apartments," Rani answered.

Tren's attention piqued at the mention of Bastila, but he uncharacteristically kept his lips sealed.

"Okay then," Trinn said, waving dismissively and walking off.

"Hey, wait, do you know anything abou—" Tren started to ask before Trinn stopped in her tracks and raised her hand to silence him.

"Do you hear that?" she asked, almost in a whisper.

The bay got silent as the siblings strained to hear what she did.

Trinn ran her fingers along a seam in the ship's hull, finding a weak spot where the panel's screw hadn't been tightened completely. She placed her ear over the seam and listened carefully, remembering her Republic training as if it were yesterday. The faint whirring was all she needed to know…

"Bomb!" she warned, pushing Tren and Rani away from the ship.

"Wait! Carth's in there!" Rani shrieked, bolting off toward the ship. Trentyn followed her and tackled her to the ground.

"Use your commlink!" he roared, not willing to let his sister be in harm's way.

Trinn's eyes darted around, noticing the descended ramp. Admiral Carth Onasi was in this ship, and it was about to blow to smithereens.

Tren continued to struggle with his sister, which proved to be harder than he thought with his immobilized arm. He did manage to pull her away to the doorway of the docking bay as Rani shifted her attention to calling Carth on his commlink.

Trinn jumped into action, dashing up the ramp. The ship was very dim since it was powered down, but she thought she could hear faint footsteps ahead of her.

"Admiral! Admiral, you need to get off this ship; it is going to blow!" Trinn called, cupping her hands around her mouth.

She continued down the main hallway, unsure of where to turn.

"Get out of there, Carth!" Rani's voice shrieked from Trinn's left side. She figured the frantic woman had finally figured out how to transmit from her commlink, but at least Trinn now knew where the admiral was.

Suddenly, a strong hand clamped around one of her wrists, and her other wrist was soon similarly caught up.

"Who are you?"

The admiral's husky voice came from just inches away from her ear. He was so close she could almost feel his chest against her back.

"No time to explain; there is a bomb planted on this ship and we need to get out of here!"

Carth loosened his grip at her answer, and Trinn snatched her chance. She grabbed his hand firmly in hers and thundered out of the ship. The sense of urgency immediately peaked in the former Republic soldier, as her instincts told her they might not make it. Once they were at the ramp, she swung Carth in front of her, grateful for her powerful form, and pushed him as hard as she could. She launched herself off the ramp right after him just as the roar of the detonation began. She landed on her feet just as Carth had and kept her eyes trained on his back as they ran from the exploding ship. Her eardrums felt as if they might burst, and then a storm of heat enveloped them right before they both were blown forward off their feet.

"Surprise," Jene said, almost a whimsical tone to his gruff voice as he stepped into the hangar.

Tren was just helping Rani up, Carth and Trinn lying motionless on the floor of the docking bay, when they heard Jene's voice. Their eyes shot to the large mercenary striding in, checking his surroundings with a half-smile, as if he'd just come home after a long trip. In his hands was a large gun, not unlike the one they had seen him use previously…when he had been saving their lives, not hunting them.

However, that was not the most shocking part. No, the most stunning part was who he had following him into the hangar. Tren had to grip his sister tighter when she appeared, for Rani wanted to launch herself at the woman who had once been her friend. Despite what she had done, Carina was still her friend, and if she could only prove it to her, perhaps she would change the lifestyle she'd fallen into.

"Looks like they had a bit of an accident," Carina smirked, looking as impassive toward the others as she could. Secretly, she recognized these people…if only faintly. She'd seen them before, of course, but that wasn't how she recognized them. She recognized them from farther back in her hidden past; she recognized them from the past she tried desperately to deny. A frown instinctively went to her face. Why couldn't the past just lay down and die?

"Perhaps it needs some help," she growled low, and she didn't recognize the voice as hers at first.

"What?" Jene queried.

"Nothing," she murmured quickly.

"What do you want, core slime?" Tren snapped, stepping between Cyrus and his sister.

"Tren!" Rani reprimanded. Didn't he know this man could kill them all with ease? However, that was not her main worry. Her main worry was that they would have to fight, and Carina could get hurt. She needed to talk to her…if only she could _talk_ to her.

"Bold words from _prey_," Jene taunted.

Tren clenched his teeth to avoid spitting back a rude comment or gesture. Rani remained behind him, her eyes flitting between Cyrus and Carina and then to Carth, who was now struggling to stand with Trinn's help. Scorch marks adorned both Carth and Trinn's clothes, but they looked more or less unharmed, thankfully.

"What? No snappy comeback?" Carina mocked.

"You blew up our ship," Tren said in a dark tone, his eyes narrowed at Cyrus, nearly ignoring Carina.

"Pity you weren't on it," Cyrus replied nonchalantly.

"Carina," Rani breathed.

Dark emerald eyes shot to the woman who stood behind Trentyn. However, it wasn't the dangerous glaring look she had been giving them anymore, but a more inquisitive look. Carina looked so confused, Rani noticed, and almost lost. Rani looked at her pitiably; she was lost and alone and now had sworn her allegiance to this murderous man. She needed to be saved, rescued.

"Leave them alone, Cyrus!" Carth cried, bringing the mercenaries' attention to himself and away from Rani and Trentyn.

Jene stepped toward Carth menacingly. "Why would I do that?"

While Carth was occupying Jene, Rani took the chance to try and sneak in a word with Carina who was standing further behind Cyrus, trying to keep out of the way should shooting begin.

"Carina!" she whispered.

Carina's head shot toward her. "What do you want?"

"I just want to talk—"

"Why does everybody want to talk to me?" she asked with an almost hurt expression. "What makes you think I _want_ to talk?"

"Because you're a good person who's just a little—_lost_—right now," Rani told her, kindness in her voice.

"After everything I've done to you people, you still refuse to give up on me," she whispered, almost as if a sudden realization was just now dawning on her. "Why?"

"Because we care… I care, Mical cares," Rani replied.

Carina froze. "That man from before…"

"Yes."

"I knew him."

"Yes."

"We were close…weren't we?" Carina asked, her expression slowly softening.

Rani almost smiled, and she would have if the situation wasn't so dire. "Yes, you were."

Carina's eyes shifted back and forth restlessly, almost as if she were trying to recall a memory from the deep recesses of her broken mind. However, Rani knew she would find nothing in her mind…only in her heart.

"Those eyes," Carina gasped, a hand flying to her mouth in sudden realization.

"Carina!" Jene snapped, breaking her free of her nostalgia.

"Yes?" she asked quickly.

"It's time we finished this," he said in a conclusive tone.

Carina looked to Rani and saw no fear in the woman's eyes.

_She faces death and doesn't fear it,_ Carina thought, bewildered. _She does what I cannot._

"Yes," Carina said, at last raising her gun. "It is time."

"Put down your weapons—now!"

Jene had his annihilator mere inches from the disgraced admiral's head, and it was fairly obvious what he intended to do with it. He was yelling like a drill sergeant would, not but four inches from the man's face, screaming at him like he was just a grunt learning formation.

"Weapons, grenades, blades—now!"

He stepped back a foot or so, his weapon held tightly in place. Without looking at anyone else, he yelled, "All of you, weapons down now, and hands where we can see them! You have ten seconds before I blast the _disgraced_ admiral into his component atoms!"

His voice was particularly venomous as he identified Onasi. He had not forgotten the man's little slight on Telos, and he intended to make him pay for it. He smiled as he saw one of them fumbling with their belts, and added, "Oh, and before any of you get any funny ideas, you should know that I'm loaded down with enough antimatter and thermal detonators to destroy everything within five kilometers, and we're in an orbiting dock. If they go off, every single person in the entire yard bay will die, and I have a dead man's switch. If you kill me, you will be responsible for the deaths of millions, which is a body count that even I have yet to reach. Oh, and you'll be dead, too, of course. There won't be enough left of you to fill a thimble."

Of course, this was something of a bluff: he really only had enough to destroy _four_ kilometers, but he didn't think they needed to know that.

"Onasi, move your ass over there…and stay the hell away from your wench."

Carth grumbled under his breath and limped slowly over to where the rest of the group was standing. Inside, he was boiling with rage and wanted nothing more than to pull his blaster out and shoot Jene, but he wasn't willing to do anything that would bring harm to Rani. He just had to hope they would find some way out of this, but the situation seemed hopeless. Jene was murderous scum, but he was _very_ good at what he did.

"Time is ticking, prey. I want your weapons on the ground now and your hands in the air."

There was a series of _clanks_ as weapons dropped on the hard floor of the docking bay. Nearly all of them had kept one weapon concealed on them, a fact Jene was keenly aware of. Whether any of them knew he was onto their game, he did not know, and furthermore he did not care. All he cared about was the fact he was in complete control and was going to treat this bounty like any other: as efficiently as possible. Just killing them right off the bat wouldn't be a good idea because he knew they were not all present here. For one thing, there was a conspicuous absence of a certain drunken Jedi and the "John Mithic" whose name appeared on his original Republic assignment. He would need to find where all of them were, and between the lot of these ones he knew they had all the information.

"Miss Taraster, step forward."

She hesitated, and Jene's tone changed instantly.

"I said get your fucking ass up here now!"

The look in his eyes was nothing if not maniacal. He looked like he was on a hair trigger; anything could set him off. And with that gun in his hand…

Most of them had seen the power of his annihilator on Telos, where it wiped out an entire platoon's worth of soldiers and mercenaries in one shot. None of them wanted to risk that behemoth gun being turned on them. Hesitatingly, waveringly, Rani stepped forward. Jene smiled and looked to his side, at Carina.

"Carina, on the left side of the gun there is a switch marked with four colors. Flip it to green."

She nodded and flipped the switch in a manner almost as mechanical as the weapon itself.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen, here are the rules: I ask the questions, one of you gives me an answer. Whoever tells me the truth gets to live. If you lie, or if I think you are lying, Miss Taraster here will suffer for it. That rifle won't kill her with that setting, but the blast will be hotter than a branding iron. One lie, one burn. If any of you move or try to run, I kill her and then I kill you. Do I make myself clear?"

--

"How are they faring?" Igrayne asked the doctor.

"They are both healing, though the man is progressing faster than the woman," the doctor answered. It made sense to Igrayne. Mithic's greater connection to the Force would enable him to heal quicker than Evy could.

"How much more time until they are both healed?"

"He will be healed completely in twenty-four to thirty-six hours. She, on the other hand, will take a bit longer: two to four days maximum."

Igrayne sighed, pressing her fingers to her pursed lips in thought. They didn't have two days…they didn't even have twenty-four hours. The time was ticking by, and there just wasn't enough of it.

"What condition will they be in twelve hours?" she asked, her dark eyes intensely watching the doctor's nonverbal cues.

He seemed a bit taken aback by the question, looking at her with a bit of incredulous humor before realizing she was completely serious. The implications of her question barely settled in as the doctor's eyes widened slightly and then narrowed in deep thought.

"The man will be well enough to walk on his own, though his body will not be in a normal, healthy state yet. The woman…she will not be in as good of a condition. I'm not even sure if she will be conscious. If she gets continued care after she is taken out of the kolto tank, she will be fine."

Igrayne nodded, imbedding the doctor's words deep into her mind. He hadn't said anything she hadn't thought herself, but it was good to get a second opinion. She immediately gave him a list of medical supplies needed for the care of Mithic and Evy once they left the tanks.

"Let's begin weaning them off the sedatives; I want them as cognizant as possible when we have to leave," Igrayne instructed the doctor.

As he hurried off, thankfully anxious to help, Igrayne continued to go over possible scenarios in her mind. She didn't want any surprises when it came to the health of her friends. She was also uncomfortable trusting the doctor so much with their plans, but she sensed that he was not going to betray them.

"You are troubled."

The dark-haired Jedi turned to face her lover's voice. When she looked upon his visage, she suddenly realized just how long it had been since she had last been alone with him. Her eyes swept his face, the curves and lines she knew so well by sight and touch. She didn't know how to respond to his observation. Maybe because it seemed so much like a question. There were some things she knew she never had to tell Bao-Dur because he would sense it through their Force connection, but she hadn't even sensed him coming down the hallway.

"I heard what the doctor said," he tried again, his dark, intense eyes locked on hers as if waiting for her next move.

It was too much for Igrayne to handle. Since that day on Malachor when the Mass Shadow Generator had ended the war and caused so much damage, Igrayne and Bao-Dur had unknowingly forged a Force bond. And from the very moment they met again on Iridonia, she had finally felt like the part of her that was missing was beginning to become whole again. They hadn't left each other's side. They thrived on their bond, and now they stood facing each other in the hallway of a medical facility like mere acquaintances.

"Bao-Dur…what has happened to us?" Igrayne held back her tears, but emotions whipped up in her soul uncontrollably, testing her limits of composure.

The Zabrak sighed softly as if satisfied that they were being honest, yet dreading the truth at the same time. His eyes held a flicker of pain that Igrayne had never seen. He turned away from her, sparing her from his ache.

"When we didn't know what had become of you on the _Sunbeam_, I put all of my strength into calling out to you. I had reached out with the Force like I have never been able to before…looking for you, for any sign of your survival. I received only emptiness in response, Igrayne."

Guilt washed over the Jedi, and a bitter taste rose at the back of her throat. She hadn't realized it at the time, but she had pulled herself away from their Force connection just as she had been pulling herself away from him.

"There is something I must tell you," she said in a tiny voice. Despite everything, she loved Bao-Dur, and he deserved to know the truth about what had happened between her and Dustil.

"I know that we are different," Bao-Dur said.

Igrayne's heart broke at his comment. He felt their differences as sorely as she did.

The Zabrak continued, seemingly struggling for the proper words. "Even though we are so different, I was lacking without you… You complete me, Igrayne."

Hot tears rushed to Igrayne's eyes, causing her to look away from his powerful gaze.

"I am willing to do what it takes to rebuild our connection," Bao-Dur said, his voice reverberating with finality.

Igrayne could find no words. She felt a sense of overwhelming relief that Bao-Dur still wanted her, but at the same time, her nagging sense of guilt ate away at her happiness. She brushed away a lone tear from her cheek and placed her hand on his face. The Iridonian simply closed his eyes, letting his body lean toward her. Igrayne continued to gently stroke his face as she slowly moved closer and closer to his waiting lips.

"You willing to do anything for her, eh, Zabrak?" Dustil interrupted.

Igrayne resisted slugging the smug little bastard. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

At the interruption, Bao-Dur stiffened and looked at the young man. He did not dignify him with an answer.

"The thing about Igrayne is, besides the fact she sleeps with Zabraks and has a hard time figuring out what she wants…she is every _man's_ dream," Dustil continued, taunting the stoic Jedi.

Bao-Dur took a step away from Igrayne, exercising enormous restraint. That gave room for Dustil to move even closer, walking almost lazy circles around Igrayne.

She was paralyzed by her guilt, filled with fear of how Bao-Dur would respond to the truth.

"Look at her," Dustil said with a bit of a chuckle. "Just look at her. She's devastatingly beautiful…those eyes a _man_ could drown in, those lips that call a real _man_ to them." He paused to reach out and run his finger along her bottom lip. Igrayne pulled back and shot a scathing look at Dustil. It only caused another chuckle from him. "She has a fire in her that every _man_ wishes to burn in. Her body has been built for man's pleasure."

Igrayne swallowed heavily, her cheeks burning in an embarrassed blush. "That is enough, Dustil," she finally managed to say.

"I'm just letting the Zabrak know why I am willing to do anything for you, too, Igrayne," Dustil said. It was not a taunt. He meant it.

Igrayne felt another wave of suffocating emotion. She had always assumed Dustil's come-ons were immature attempts at a power struggle. It was hard to face that there was more to his feelings for her.

"Still not talking to me, Zabrak? Maybe you don't take me seriously. Well, how about this…while you were spending hours in meditation trying to contact Igrayne, she was allowing me to _comfort_ her. Do you know what that means? I touched her body and tasted her lips."

The smug smile on Dustil's face didn't last long, as Bao-Dur's colossal resolve finally broke. The powerful Zabrak rushed at the young man, grabbing him by his collar and slamming him against the wall. Igrayne assumed the worst was coming. She rushed up behind Bao-Dur, readying herself to interfere.

Bao-Dur did not go for his lightsaber, however, nor did he raise his fist. He kept his tensed grip on Dustil, staring furiously into the man's eyes. "Is this true?"

Dustil coughed, the material of his shirt cutting into his neck. "Ask her," he choked.

It was maddening to know she lay just beyond those walls that trapped him.

His whole life, he had lived alone, and he just didn't know how to deal with protecting someone else. It made him feel like even more of a failure that he hadn't been there for her.

Atton looked around the now empty waiting room. Bao-Dur had left, soon followed by Dustil, and HK hadn't been seen in a while. Atton should have been at least a little bit alarmed by the droid's disappearance, but he left it up to someone else to be responsible for worrying about it.

He stood up, running a hand through his dark hair. Atton rarely took orders from anybody. He didn't care that Evy was in a kolto tank; he had to see her. It had been months since he had last been forced to sneak around, but the skill came to him naturally. His boots were soundless on the floors as he crept up to the corner and then carefully peered around the edge. Further down the hallway, he could see Igrayne and Bao standing together silently while Dustil hid and watched.

Atton Rand wasn't even sure he wanted to know what was going on with that. He was silently grateful that even though he and Evy weren't on the best terms, they weren't involved in some weird love triangle like Bao-Dur, Igrayne, and Dustil were. The scoundrel focused his attention elsewhere, and noticed that just around the corner was the door that led to the room where Evy and Mithic were being held.

He poked his head a bit further out, confident that Igrayne, Bao-Dur, and Dustil were too caught up in their own drama to notice him. The door was obviously locked, protected by a palm recognition screen. He looked down at his own hands and was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to unlock it.

Just then, the door across from the one he had been staring at swooshed open. Atton ducked back behind the corner, hoping his scoundrel luck was with him.

It was! The doctor, with his arms full of medical supplies, struggled to hold his cargo while holding out his palm to the lock. Finally, the door beeped quietly and opened, allowing the doctor in. Atton rushed around the corner, his steps silent, and then squeezed into the room just before the doors clamped shut.

_Good thing I'm skinny_, he thought before hiding behind an empty kolto tank.

The doctor arranged the medical supplies on the nearby table and then fussed with the computer for a few minutes before leaving again. The entire time, Atton stood behind the tank, motionless in the shadows.

He saw Mithic's tank first. It was strange to see the captain in his unconscious state. The man had always been the strong, quiet type. Always observing, yet always full of a kind of hushed vigor. John Mithic was not the type to be insensible. With his eyes closed and his body floating in the liquid, the hero was almost unrecognizable to Atton.

The scoundrel took a deep breath before looking to Evy's tank, which was right across from John Mithic's. It was hard to see her like that. Her body was gently leaned forward, her head drooped, and her arms floating out away from her body. She looked so small and vulnerable inside the tank…and so _lifeless_. Her face was mostly covered by the breathing unit and tube attached to her, but Atton could still she her closed eyes, her eyelashes brushing her cheeks. She almost looked like a delicate, golden-haired doll in some sort of macabre display case.

Atton swallowed hard, pressing his hands against the glass. He wanted nothing more at that moment than the ability to heal her like she had healed him. There was no denying they were inexorably linked, connected by the bonds of fate and love.

He was a deserter, and yet he had not found the strength to desert her yet. He was too weak to leave her, too greedy for the way she made him feel. Around her, he wasn't just some ex-Sith scoundrel…he was a man, a good man who deserved her pure love.

But deep down inside, Atton always knew he was more than he let on to her. He hid the dark parts of him from Evy, afraid of what she might think of him. He assumed she would never be able to fully accept him for what he truly was, so instead he buried that part of his soul, shielded it from her beautiful eyes.

Atton didn't know what was coming next, whether they would live or die, or whether they would be together or not. But he hoped that no matter what, he would get the chance to let her know he loved her.

--

Rani's eyes widened with Jene's sudden ultimatum. Her life was hanging in the balance along with her friends' lives, and she was helpless to do anything. She managed a sidelong glance at Carth, who stood by, a stoic expression on his face that just barely contained the furious emotion bubbling to the surface. Rani knew that if he had the chance, Carth would try and beat Cyrus to a bloody pulp. His enraged eyes and tight-lipped frown said as much.

After glancing at Carth, Rani's eyes turned back to the woman who was currently holding her hostage at point blank range—the same woman who had helped her and saved her life almost centuries ago. Rani was not certain what was going through the emerald-eyed woman's mind, but her expression showed how conflicted she felt inside. _If only there was some way I could reach her,_ Rani thought desperately.

"Any objections?" Jene asked, looking around casually. He was met with bitter silence. "No? Good…then let us begin."

Carina's hands were literally shaking, and she could not stop them. Already she was failing Jene, for she couldn't even hold a gun right let alone shoot someone with it! Not just any someone either—no, _this_ woman. This woman with the golden brown hair, the brave eyes, and the courageous countenance. Her familiarity bothered Carina greatly, and she was finding it hard to focus because of it.

Well, because of that and those piercing blue eyes that continued to pop into her mind's eye.

"Carina?"

Carina's head snapped up to look at Jene. "Hmm?"

Jene looked frustrated with her but said nothing except, "I said let's begin. Get ready. I believe these _friends_ of hers are going to put up some resistance."

Carina merely nodded dumbly.

"First question: where are the rest of your friends?" Jene began.

"What others?" Trentyn queried with feigned ignorance.

Jene pointed his weapon at the man, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Care to repeat that, _boy_? Don't tell me there aren't any others because I sure as hell know there are! I'm going to ask you once more…where are the others?!"

Carth looked absolutely torn. If he revealed the location of the others, they could all possibly die. If he kept his silence, Rani would be tortured. Could he really risk the safety and the life of the woman he loved?

"I'm losing my patience! I will not repeat myself again! Where are the fucking others?!" Jene yelled irately.

Carth looked to Rani. Rani gave him a small smile. Carth said nothing.

"Bold, I'll give you that," Jene murmured before speaking louder in a commanding voice. "But being bold won't protect Miss Taraster here from receiving quite the beating from my friend's gun. Will it, Carina?"

It was obvious what she was supposed to do now. Simply pull the trigger and initiate a brief torture session for the woman who seemed to wish nothing but good toward her. However, as she had so recently learned, it could just be a good façade, a lie. Most things, she had discovered, were these days.

"Carina!" Cyrus' voice broke into her thoughts. "Do it."

Carina's finger rested on the trigger, and her whole body was shaking with tension. Part of her couldn't care less what happened to these people—this was the same part that wanted to desperately forget the past and move into an uncertain future. The other part, however, yearned to go back to the past, to learn exactly what had happened to her and who these people were.

"Do it!"

The next thing she heard were the screams of agony as Rani dropped to the floor, writhing in pain due to the trigger on her gun having been pulled. Even once the gun had ceased, she twitched, unable to pull herself back up from the ground. Silent, defiant tears slid down her cheeks, but she refused to call out or beg for mercy. Small scorch marks decorated her delicate features, making Carina almost sick. Had she done that? Had she pulled the trigger and caused such pain in another living being? The truth was she had…thus proving she really was a horrible person like Kavar and the Jedi Council had suspected. Like she _knew_.

The brown-haired woman blinked her eyes to avoid shedding unwanted tears. If she could stifle any emotions, she would no longer have to feel pain. Anything, at this point, was better than the emotional pain Carina was feeling as she looked down at the weakened woman struggling to get to her feet again.

Jene looked back to everyone else who had lunged forward a few inches when Rani was attacked. He smiled upon seeing their reactions and knew they would no longer be silent…if only to protect their precious possession.

"See?" he pointed at Rani. "This is what happens when you disobey me."

"You bastard!" Carth growled through clenched teeth, one hand extended toward Rani as the reality of the situation hit him. They could all very well die here.

"The one and only," Cyrus gave a mock bow. "Now, answer the question."

Carth hung his head in mild defeat. "They're—"

"No," Rani choked in a small voice. "No, Carth."

"Rani," he breathed, unbidden tears springing to his eyes.

"Tell him nothing," Rani said, defiance covering her tone. "Protect everyone else."

"Shut up!" Jene yelled, rolling his eyes. "You think this is a joke?! You think I won't blow you all to hell?! You think your pathetic bravery and courage holds any weight with me? Cause it sure as hell doesn't! Tell me what I want to know…or I swear I'll blow Taraster's bloody brains out!"

Rani's eyes locked with Carth's as a silent communication passed between them. Rani trusted Carth to make the right decision for all of them. Carth loved Rani more than anything else in the world…and he couldn't risk losing another woman he loved. However, this call was his and no one else's. Both Trinn and Trentyn looked at him, awaiting his response.

"Go to hell, Cyrus," Carth told him, a bit of arrogance in his voice.

Jene shook his head. "For the love of—what is it going to take to teach you people that I'm serious?! I'm gonna—"

However, just then, the answer to Jene's question appeared in the doorway, clothed in Jedi robes and with a lightsaber in hand. A plan began forming in Jene's head. Carina couldn't manage to form a complete sentence, simply glancing at the man who had appeared in shock.

_Did he come for me?_

"Let them go, Cyrus," Kavar demanded, stepping into the hangar.

Jene's howling, hollow laughter echoed throughout the docking bay, bouncing off the walls until it sounded like it was coming from every direction at once. He threw his head back and loosed more of the vile cackle before slowly lowering his view back down to face forward, his face as cold and composed as a marble statue. His voice was low and threatening, though at the same time it mocked Kavar with its hint of venom.

"Make me, you bloody drunkard. You won't be the first Jedi I've killed, and you won't be the last."

Kavar brushed off the comment as if he didn't even hear it, simply repeating, "Let them go."

Jene's teeth clenched as he held his rifle at the ready and hissed, "Come and make me, you pathetic excuse for a Jedi."

Kavar didn't need any more provocation. He charged at Jene, lightsaber held high, his anger undoing all of his years of training. He was angry—angry at Jene, angry at Carina, angry at Mical, and most of all, angry at himself. He was slipping away already, but now the proverbial dam broke. It was too much; something had to give. For the first time, Kavar found out what it was like to release all of his anger at once, and he _liked it_.

The Jedi covered the last three meters with a Force-powered jump, using up precious energy in the process, and made a two-handed vertical swipe at Jene. Yet, to his surprise, the mercenary was already out of the way by the time he started hurtling back toward the floor, and he was aiming his rifle.

_Click-click_.

The sound of the gun pumping was all too familiar to those who had seen Jene's "performance" on Telos, but in his rage Kavar barely noticed it. All he saw was Jene Cyrus, world-class scum who needed to die, not stopping to realize he was quickly becoming exactly like the psychotic mercenary: consumed by anger and self-hatred, and with a bloodlust that needed to be satiated.

The only problem: Jene was a lot better at it than Kavar ever could hope to be.

Before Jene could get a shot off, Kavar went on the attack again, using the Force to push his agility to its natural limits. He slashed wildly at Jene, an attack that the mercenary—no stranger to melee combat, by any means—easily dodged. Again and again Kavar attacked, and again and again Jene ducked, sidestepped, and backed away. The more he missed, the angrier he became, and the easier his attacks were to dodge.

Kavar tried another two-handed vertical slash, and again he found that Jene had gotten out of it even as the blade was falling. Kavar's enhanced senses saw the mercenary move to his right, and had he been in his usual stance he could easily have struck the man and killed him. His eyes widened as he realized what he had done: by letting himself be consumed by anger, he had signed his own death warrant. He had always told aspiring Jedi that the path to the dark side ultimately led to ruin, but now he understood all too clearly why.

As the blade fell, Kavar cursed himself before being thrown to the floor.

Jene slammed down hard on the Jedi's back with the butt of his rifle, throwing him to the ground and causing him to spasm with pain, in the process losing his grip on his lightsaber. A wide, toothy smile was plastered on Jene's face, a mask intended to be exactly what it was: creepy and somewhat discomforting. The more he could throw his opponent off guard, the better. He soon realized, however, that his opponent was doing a fine enough job of throwing himself off guard all on his own, and so the smile was only there through force of habit. Now that his victory was certain, he let it down and resumed his usual frigid stare.

He saw the Jedi try to get up and responded to this by stomping down on him with one boot. Something cracked, and he cried out in pain, his arms and legs splayed out on all sides. He wasn't dead, but he wouldn't be able to move for maybe thirty seconds, more than enough time to do what was needed. Jene calmly walked away and moved toward the lightsaber, which was still humming softly with its power. He respected the ancient weapon not as a work of art or even as a weapon, but as a masterful piece of technology. Even he was unable to completely discern exactly how it was built, as the focusing crystals were so irregular it should have been nearly impossible to assemble by hand…and yet, they did.

Resting his annihilator on one shoulder, he picked up the lightsaber. It was very light, especially considering how much power it contained. He twirled it around a few times to get a feel for it and then shut it off.

"Funny. I've fought many Jedi before, and many more Sith, but none of them were as easy to defeat as you were. You really are pathetic, Kavar." He clipped the lightsaber to his belt, and then continued. "So why are you just lying there like that? You're not dead yet, and I know you can see me. Come on, fight me. I won't even use my weapons."

Accordingly, he slung the annihilator over his back and then spread his fingertips and cracked his knuckles.

"Ah…come on, Jedi, fight me!"

Kavar slowly got to his feet, still reeling from the pain, but he quickly shook it off. He smiled to himself and prepared for battle. Obviously, the mercenary had forgotten all about the power of the Force, and he intended to instruct his pompous ass in its ways.

This time, Jene was the one who went on the offensive. He swung a pair of jabs at Kavar, which the Jedi stepped backward to avoid. Kavar then did something that was usually a fatal move in a fist fight: he spread his arms wide. Jene smiled and went for a jab in his gut, when he felt himself being pushed backward. Kavar was trying to throw him away with telekinesis.

_Typical Jedi_, Jene thought to himself, and smiled.

He ducked down quickly, trying to dig in as hard as possible, and when the actual push came, it merely shoved him back. Jene was still on his feet and ready for another go. Kavar threw three more at him, all in vain. Jene was used to fighting Jedi, and he had learned long ago how to defeat that technique.

But Kavar wasn't done yet. He again harnessed his anger, seeing it as his only escape, and let it fly at Jene. It manifested as Force lightning, and to Kavar's great delight Jene was hit. The mercenary did not so much scream in pain as yell in anger. He _roared_ as the electricity coursed through his body, threatening to stop his heart or shut down his brain. Yet, somehow, he not only survived it, but he also kept going. As Kavar poured more and more power into the lightning, Jene kept going forward, step by anguished step, fists clenched tightly as if his very life depended on it. In many ways, he really was depending on it.

With one last echoing shout, Jene lunged at Kavar, his fist driving into the Jedi's abdomen. The lightning stopped, but Jene kept going. He kept punching and punching, kicking and kicking, until Kavar was little more than one bruised, bleeding sore. He could barely move, and any attempt to do so was met with excruciating pain from numerous broken bones.

Satisfied, Jene stepped back five paces and grabbed his annihilator. Smiling maniacally, he aimed directly at the helpless Jedi and fired.

A violet beam of light erupted from its tip, quickly turning into a bolt of deep purple fire. In the flash of a second, it impacted Kavar, who screamed…only to be suddenly cut off as his body erupted in a violet fireball. The entire dock shook as the antimatter completely ripped apart his body, the explosion finishing what the original shot began.

When the dust cleared, only a fine ash remained, surrounded by a deep burn in the durasteel floor.


	19. Onboard the Centurion's Blade

When the _Sunbeam_ had exploded, it had blown out all the lights in the docking bay. They had only the ghastly light of Force lightening to see by.

Carth put one arm around Rani, steadying her. "All you all right? Stay with me, Gorgeous."

Rani nodded, pulling away from Carth. "I'm fine, I can stand… I'm serious."

The admiral gave Rani one last look before believing her, then he, Trinn, and Trentyn bent over to begin picking up all of their discarded weapons. The wounded woman ignored the searing pain that would dance over her skin every time she moved. She bent down to pick up her blaster and then holstered it, trying not to look at the black marks that marred the skin of her arm.

Rani saw Carina but a few paces away from her, still transfixed by the battle that was going on between Jene Cyrus and Master Kavar. She took the few painful steps to her friend, finally falling into the other woman's arms. Carina caught Rani, steadying her while she regained her footing.

"Carina, you have to come with us," Rani said. Her throat was dry, so the words came out raspy.

"I can't," Carina replied automatically, horrified by what she had done to the kind woman.

"Yes, you can. You belong with us, Carina. Not with this man."

"I'm sorry," Carina cried, fully meaning it. "I'm so sorry."

Carth ran up to Rani, holding her protectively around the waist. "Come, Rani, we must go."

"I'm not leaving without her," Rani promised, staring deep into Carina's emerald eyes.

Carina gazed at Rani, her once magnificent face marred by streaks of sooty damaged skin. Carina had done that; how could she face this woman who seemed to forgive her for everything?

"Let her be, Rani. You can't change her," Carth said. His anger towards the green-eyed woman was barely hidden. Carina couldn't blame him.

"Carina, come please," Rani begged, holding on to her lover's arm for support.

Carina fought back tears, though she wasn't sure why she even cared. Why did this woman cause such an emotional response in her? "I can't…" she answered with finality in her tone.

"Then _I'm_ sorry," Rani replied.

"For what?" Carina asked.

"For this." Rani then raised her hand, which firmly held the butt of her blaster. It wasn't that it came down quicker than Carina could react, but she just was incredulous. A loud "thwack" sounded and then Carina went careening to the floor.

"Tren, pick her up," Rani ordered. "We're taking her with us."

Openmouthed, but stirred into action by the sounds of the battle going on, Tren, with Trinn's help, threw the unconscious Carina over his shoulder. He braced her with his uninjured arm by firmly grabbing onto her rear end.

Carth, with one arm firmly around Rani, began ushering them out.

"Is that really necessary?" Trinn asked as they jogged, nodding her head toward Tren's errant hand.

"Nope, but it makes the job more enjoyable," he answered with a grin.

The group ran away from the building and toward the maintenance docks, where the _Blade_ was. The sky was lightening, a calm, dull grey that was a stark contrast to their hurried moods. Almost sending Tren into an evasive roll again, HK-47 jumped out from around a corner.

"Urgent Request: Master, you must get off of this planet for your own safety."

Rani brightened at the sight of the droid. "HK, thank the Force you are here!"

"Query: Is there someone that you need killed, Master?"

"Er…well, yes!"

HK's blood-red eye lights glowed a bit brighter. "Enthusiastic proclamation: I am most eager to engage in some unadulterated violence!"

"Good! Keep Jene Cyrus off our backs! We need to get safely off this planet!"

HK-47 did not even wait for more instruction from Rani, and the immense rust-red droid moved past them toward the sounds of the vicious battle that was still going on.

--

"Ask her," Dustil repeated in a choked tone.

Bao-Dur did not look away from Dustil's frightened stare. "Is this true?"

Igrayne knew the Jedi was speaking to her. Her hands began to shake almost imperceptibly, but she could just barely feel their chatter. She looked down at them, white and delicate, but when she turned them over, she could see that the palms were thick and calloused.

At this very moment, Igrayne felt less like a Jedi than she ever had. How was she a guardian of the peace or the upholder of justice? She could not even keep the peace in her own life, nor was justice done.

"For Force's sake, Igrayne, tell him!" Dustil begged. The powerful Zabrak still had him pressed against the wall, his tiptoes barely touching the floor, and the collar of his shirt cutting off his air supply.

Igrayne wondered if, once Bao-Dur heard the truth, guilt would now be her constant companion instead of him. She had hurt the gentle Zabrak once already by almost offering herself up entirely to Dustil when they had been captives on Destrik's ship.

She pressed her palms together, feeling the calluses, the reminders of how hard she had worked and how strong she had become. She would tell the truth.

Her hand snaked up the back of Bao's organic arm, resting on his shoulder. "Look at me," she requested.

The Zabrak immediately let Dustil go. The young man sank to the floor to his knees, taking big gulps of air and rubbing his neck. Igrayne looked away from Dustil as Bao-Dur faced her.

"Is it true, Igrayne?" Bao-Dur's voice was low and soft.

"The truth is, on the ship…Dustil kissed me, and I allowed it," Igrayne started.

There was a slight flicker in his eyes, and then the shadowy orbs calmed again, allowing her to continue.

"It was just that once, but I not only allowed it, I…I returned it."

What she now saw in his eyes frightened her. They had been so close that she thought she knew everything about Bao-Dur, but now, looking into the deep recesses of his ebon eyes, she saw something unfamiliar. She saw something _alien_.

"Why?"

"I…I don't know, Bao," she began, shaking her head and holding back tears.

He stood across from her, solid and still, like a grand statue.

"Bao-Dur…" Igrayne reached out to him. She wanted to comfort him, stop the pain that she could so strongly feel even through their dying Force bond. He stepped back, avoiding her touch.

"Is it because I am not human?"

The question was like a slap in the face to Igrayne. She took her own shaky step back, bewildered by his connotations. She had never thought their problems were because he was a Zabrak, and she a human…_right?_

A loud beeping sounded from Igrayne's utility belt, immediately interrupting the heavy silence. Her hand pressed a button on her commlink.

"Igrayne, get Evy, Mithic, and the others, and we need to get out of here!" Carth Onasi's voice sounded from the communicator.

She turned away from the two males who stared at her. "Carth, what happened?"

"We've been attacked, and we need to get off of this planet now! Meet us at the _Centurion's Blade_." Igrayne had never seen Carth panic, not even in the most dire of circumstances, but he sounded very urgent, and when he sounded like that, the danger was imminent.

Igrayne turned back to face Bao-Dur and Dustil, who was now standing, though she didn't look either in the eye. "Come on, you heard the admiral. Let's get going. We need to get Mithic and Evy out of those tanks."

The three of them burst into the room in which Evy and Mithic were in their kolto tanks. Much to Igrayne's relief, Atton was already there. Igrayne ran to the computer and began entering commands.

"Atton, we need to leave the planet now! Can you carry Evy to the _Blade_ when she's out of the tank?"

Atton nodded tersely in response, but Igrayne looked back to the computer screen before she could see any more of his reaction. She began to panic as she thought about how dangerous it would be for her to try to keep the both of them stabilized while they transported them to the ship.

She didn't have too long to descend into panic, as Mical came walking through the door. He looked like hell, but at least he looked okay enough to help her.

"We need to get out—" Igrayne began.

"I know, I got the message on my commlink," Mical admitted, pushing his unkempt blonde hair out of his face. "Let's get Evy and Mithic out of here safely."

--

In the cockpit of the _Centurion's Blade_, Han was making himself comfortable in the pilot's seat while Indy searched the ship's cargo units for explosives. When her search turned up nothing out of the ordinary, she trekked back to the smuggler to report her findings.

"Looks like we're all clear. Want to contact the admiral and see how things are going with the _Sunbeam_?"

Han tossed her the commlink.

"What do you think's taking them so long?"

Indy snorted.

"Well, it is Carth and Rani we're talking about. Knowing them, they probably stopped for a quickie."

"Highly unlikely, kid. Unless that Cyrus guy got a hold of them…"

"Force, let's hope not."

"There's only one way to find out," Han said, and motioned toward the commlink. Indy thumbed the button and spoke Carth's name into the unit. There was no response. Indy shifted the fedora back on her head, slicking back loose strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes.

"Damn it. Nice to know they're taking their sweet time getting back to us."

"Cool your engines, kid. If there's a reason the admiral's not calling, it must be a good one."

"Yeah. That's why I'm worried."

A sputter of activity on the other end of the commlink interrupted their conversation.

"Indy, this is Carth," the metallic voice drawled.

"Carth, what do you have for me?"

She forcibly vacated Han from her seat and set the _Blade_'s systems in gear.

"Situation's not good. The _Sunbeam_ was destroyed by a bomb, and Jene Cyrus turned up not long after. HK-47's our first line of defense. He's going to hold him off, but not for long. We've got to get out of here, and fast."

"I'm in docking bay ninety-four," Indy told him. "Gather the others and come find us."

"I've already sent them communication. They should be on their way. We will need the medbay readied because Mithic and Evy are going to be removed from their kolto tanks."

_Force_, Indy thought. The _Blade_'s limited medical resources meant that Mithic and Evy's chances of a healthy recuperation would become very slim unless they made every effort to accommodate them. The least she could do was make them comfortable while they were in transit.

"Han."

"Yeah?"

"Go activate the kolto tanks. We're going to need them."

He obeyed her without question, sensing the dire urgency in her voice, and went to scout out the medbay.

--

Utilizing all the help at their disposal, Igrayne and Mical carefully lifted both Mithic and Evy from the kolto tanks in which they were suspended. The operation proved difficult, considering that the containment cylinders needed to be emptied and cleansed before they could take out their patients. And if they moved too speedily, they ran the risk of one or both of their patients going into shock. Once the tanks had been emptied and their patients stabilized, Mical ordered them both wrapped in warm blankets.

Mithic and Evy lay on two adjacent tables. Igrayne looked at her friend, feeling a tug at her heart as she realized that Evy might never make it out of this alive if they weren't careful with her transportation to the _Blade_. Knowing Atton, though, that would never happen. She was perfectly comfortable in the knowledge that the scoundrel would be the one bearing Evy's weight, because he knew her chances of survival were very slim if he didn't follow Mical's instructions word for word.

"How do you want to do this?" Igrayne asked, one hand on her hip. The sterile, bright light of the room danced across the doctor's shadowy features as he made one note on a small clipboard.

"Atton, as you know, will carry Evy. We can carry Mithic between us."

"I will help you carry him," Bao-Dur volunteered. Igrayne looked at the Zabrak, but his steely features betrayed none of the anger she felt lurking in their dying Force bond.

"Very good." Mical turned to face Dustil, acting surprisingly calm and collected under the enormous amount of pressure. "Dustil, do you think you can bring this case of medication? I will need it to treat Evy and Mithic while onboard."

The doctor motioned toward a pocket-sized durasteel case containing dozens of prescriptions—from serum, to pills, to batches of inoculations. Dustil, sensing the urgency of the situation, wasted no time in arguing.

"All right."

Igrayne pressed the tip of the communicator to reach Carth.

"Carth, are you there? We're on our way."

Though he didn't chime in with a response, she was fairly certain he had received her transmission.

They started out by moving at a slow crawl. The medical facility seemed strangely deserted, which aided in a stealthier flight to the nearby shipyard. Igrayne observed Atton handling Evy with great care, his hands clasped tightly around her as though trying to resuscitate her from the kolto-induced coma. She had never seen the scoundrel act so gentle with anyone or anything, but at the same time it was really no surprise—he and Evy, despite their near constant bickering, had developed a strong, affectionate bond between them.

It reminded her of Bao-Dur, and how that bond had been broken in a series of events she had willingly initiated long ago on Destrik's ship. Bao had been growing more and more _alien_ to her with each day that passed, and she could only find the comfort—the humanity—she had been seeking in Dustil. She was guilty because of this, but even more so of the fact that she had almost answered "yes" to Bao-Dur's last question as to whether or not her attraction to Dustil had stemmed from his being human. It was natural for her to crave companionship from one of her own kind, and despite his somewhat uncouth demeanor, Dustil was more similar to her than she perhaps realized.

"Do you hear someone?" Mical asked as they traipsed down the long corridor toward the medical facility's exit. Igrayne lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

"No."

"Let's move faster."

As they rounded the bend of the corner, Igrayne walked smack into Rani.

"Rani!"

"Igrayne!"

The two women hugged, and as she pulled back, Igrayne noticed that the golden-brown haired woman looked badly beaten up. Small scorch marks marred her beauty, but Rani seemed unconcerned with her appearance just now. She spoke with incredible courage and poise, and it was suddenly apparent to Igrayne why nearly all of Telos's populace had supported her in her campaign for senator.

"Carth sent me to bring you to the docking bay. He's already there, with Trinn…"

"Who?"

Rani continued. "…Tren and Carina."

Igrayne froze in her tracks, feeling like a lead weight was tied to her feet.

"Carina?"

"Yes, it's a long story. Not enough time to explain now."

Mical blanched, and it was not unnoticed by Igrayne. She wondered if he even knew Carina was alive—well, he certainly did now. She didn't have too long to pity him, as Rani gently pulled at her elbow.

"Come, we must get going. Cyrus will make short work of that droid, and when he does… Well, let's just say we don't want to be around to find out."

"Agreed. Come on," Igrayne said. She noticed that Mical was moving with slower than usual steps, as though suddenly regretting the idea of boarding the _Blade_. All the color was drained from his face, and the ashen pallor of his countenance disturbed Igrayne.

"Mical, do you need rest?"

"No," he said with a sense of finality. "We _must_ keep moving."

When their party finally arrived at the _Blade_, Carth was on the landing platform, leaning over to beckon them on.

"Quickly. Bring them in. Han's already prepared the kolto tanks."

Igrayne was glad that the transportation of the patients was over and they had arrived intact. While Mical, Bao, and Atton brought them in to administer intensive care, Igrayne pulled Rani into the main hold.

"Where is she?"

She didn't need to say her name for Rani to understand exactly who she meant.

"She's in the cargo hold. She's unconscious. We didn't want the others to see her…but now I guess Mical knows."

"I'll go talk to her."

Igrayne had positioned herself toward the door, but found herself easily flipped around by Rani's firm grip on her shirt.

"No. I'm going to speak with her. There are things that must be said."

She slackened her grip on Igrayne's shirt, and the young woman nodded her head in accordance.

"Yes, I understand. While you see to that, I'll help the others in the medbay. Mical can use my skills now."

"He needs every bit of help he can get."

"Okay." Igrayne jogged toward the door. "And Rani…be careful."

"I will."

Igrayne entered the medbay, where Mical and Atton were already hoisting the patients into two old kolto tanks. Dustil had set down the case of medication and disappeared. Even Bao-Dur was nowhere in sight, probably having retreated to the garage to do some emergency maintenance work on their defensive weapons systems.

"Let me help," she said, adjusting the settings on Evy's tank so as to make them more comfortable. She seriously doubted it mattered at all. Evy was probably aware of very little at this point.

Once she and Mical had stabilized the patients, he began unpacking all of his medical equipment and spreading the various items around the small station. Igrayne leaned against one of the cots.

"Do you need anymore help?"

"It's best you stay here, just in case."

"All right. The others are probably taking care of things right now."

An uncomfortable silence passed. Igrayne was grateful when the engines fired up, so she wouldn't be forced to talk. But she could easily see that something was on Mical's mind, and she knew just what that something was.

"Mical, if you want to talk about it—"

"I don't," the doctor snapped. His curt, terse tone took Igrayne aback. She had never seen the mild-mannered doctor so affected by anything in all her life. He quickly regained his composure, determined to stay calm and level-headed until the chaos had passed.

"I am fine," he said, quieter this time. "Now, would you please hand me my clipboard? I want to any observe behavioral changes they might exhibit while in the kolto tanks. It's necessary that I keep these patient charts updated."

He scribbled away at something on the chart, though Igrayne could only guess what. He seemed intensely busy, laboring hard over some nonexistent task, and perhaps it was just as well. With the subject of Carina lingering over both their heads, and neither of them brave enough to broach the topic, they might as well not talk at all. It gave Igrayne time to think about all that she had done. Not that that thought was any more comforting.

They had fallen into a comfortable routine of checking the patients every few minutes and noting out loud any changes in behavior when an unexpected wrench was thrown into their progress. Atton entered the room to announce their departure.

"Han and Indy are just about ready to take off. They want to make sure you have everything you need."

"Yes, I think we do," Mical replied in the affirmative.

"Good. And…uh…is Evy doing okay?" he asked feebly.

Igrayne smiled, suspecting that was the very reason for Atton's little visit. When Mical replied that she was doing just fine, Atton's tense expression seemed to relax a bit. Not long after Atton's departure, Tren came by to inquire the very same thing.

"She's fine, all right?" Igrayne cried, shutting the door in his face. "What the heck is this, a circus? These people aren't performing Banthas on show for you two!"

She immediately wondered where that sudden mood swing had come from.

Tren's irritated voice replied, from behind the door, "Forgive me for caring so damn much. I just wanted to make sure kitten was okay."

His grumbling was accompanied by a loud, childish stomping that signaled to Igrayne he had departed. Finally, she could feel the _Blade_ becoming airborne, as the engines roared louder upon takeoff. Mical immediately rushed to secure all his equipment, and Igrayne assisted him. After she was sure they were safely out of the planet's atmosphere and into space, she said, "So are we going to talk about it or not? Because this suspense is killing me."

Mical shut his eyes, rearranging some of the medical tools that had fallen during their rather haphazard takeoff.

"The only way I can get on with my work is by not talking about it, Igrayne. I saw Carina and spoke with her not long ago, and it confirmed my worst fears—that she really is _dead_."

Igrayne kept on rearranging the medical instruments.

--

Her head was throbbing fit to explode when she finally awoke and sent a glance around at her surroundings. Carina didn't know where she was, but it didn't take long to figure out. The flashes of memory she'd had—Rani knocking her from behind, the fight taking place between Kavar and Cyrus—confirmed it. Even without reaching out with the Force, she could determine that she was in the lion's den.

She moved to her knees, careful not to unbalance herself. She felt like a hairline fracture had split her skull open and her inner organs were now pouring themselves out, but when she put both hands to her head to calm the aching pressure, she was surprised to find it intact. If she had not known any better, she would've guessed someone had directed a heady dose of Force lightning toward her and these were the lingering aftereffects.

"Force," was all she could think to say as she stood up rather shakily and looked around. She was in the cargo hold, from what she could gather, and the forward momentum from underneath told her that the ship was in transit. Wherever she was, it was far, far away from where she needed to be.

"Let me out!" she cried, but her protests were futile. No one seemed to hear or respond to her repeated cries for help. She sat down accordingly, deeming it a waste of time and effort to continually pound the door for release.

She scanned her memories, the few scant bits of information she had digested before being unceremoniously knocked unconscious. Kavar and Cyrus had been fighting, and she had been at a loss to describe her feelings. Though her head now told her she should ally with Cyrus, her heart screamed out for Kavar. The warring emotions inside of her had her from one end of the spectrum to another in a matter of milliseconds. She went from wanting to rip apart Kavar limb from limb for what he had done to her, to longing for his embrace, his touch, his kiss.

Carina held her head in her hands. The Force was screaming in her head, disrupting her thoughts, so she sifted through it to try and find out why. Though she had not seen the conclusion to the battle played out before her, she could feel through the Force that something was terribly wrong—that somehow, it had played out to a terrible and bloody end. Only, whose end? Jene's or Kavar's?

The whispers inside her head told her what she feared: that Kavar had died and been totally obliterated by her new master, and now she was all alone in the universe. But her mind struggled to accept this fact.

She stood up and paced, the truth beginning to sink in. She sought to repel it, but to no avail. The ugly truth put her in a panic, and she soon found her heart racing, the pacing of her breathing turning from ragged, to labored, to hyperventilating. She stood against the wall for support and screamed.

She could feel no response from her master through the Force, though she searched for one with increased fervor, desperate to prove to herself that she had been wrong, that somehow she had mistakenly interpreted his "death" as fact when it was not. But no response came, only silence.

Something happened then that had never happened before. She could feel the Force swell to a crescendo inside of her, and before she could harness it and take it under control, it came in a bright burst of energy that toppled a few crates over in the cargo hold.

Realizing the level of power she now wielded, she began making scorching white-hot lacerations of Force energy across her skin, digging and cutting at whatever scrap of flesh she could find. The compunction to self-mutilation had never before manifested itself, but now, in the face of extreme rage and anger, she could only direct those emotions at herself, at her total inability to control the situations around her. _This_ was one thing she could control.

She repeatedly allowed the lacerations to decorate her wrists, the cuts growing deeper and more concentrated the more she kept her anger out of check.

At the commotion, the door raised and in hurried Rani, carrying a bowl of water and a towel she had been planning to use to wake up Carina with. The younger woman stared murderously at her, and it was with caution that Rani approached her.

"Where am I?"

"Aboard the _Centurion's Blade_," Rani said, taking tentative steps to set down the bowl. When she noticed the fresh red marks dotting her wrists, she said, "Oh...Carina!"

"Don't touch me. I want to be alone. Kavar is dead, and so am I."

Rani approached slowly, careful not to upset the green-eyed young woman who had experienced one up and down after another.

"Yes, the news is true. Kavar _is_ dead. We have been in communication with the Jedi Council since our departure. They said Bastila reported to them that..."

"I don't need to hear it again," Carina spat. "Kavar's dead, and that's all I care about."

"At least let me take care of those so they don't get infected," Rani said, motioning to her marks. Carina nodded, sensing no threat from her, and presented her hands to Rani for treating. Rani took the towel and sopped it in the bowl a little before wringing it out to get it just damp enough. Then she massaged the cuts to take away the blood and the rawness.

"You really shouldn't have done this."

Carina gave her a scathing glare, as if daring her to give another lecture. Instead, Rani only said, "I worry about you. You may not believe this, but at one time we were friends."

"Oh, yeah? And do friends really go around bashing each other on the head?"

"I did that for your own good, you know."

Carina winced a little as she continued cleansing her wounds.

"There. That's not so bad, eh?"

"Why are you here?" the woman demanded venomously.

Rani sighed almost wearily, staring down into the bowl of water, now stained red. "I'm here, Carina, to tell you the truth."

"The truth?" Carina laughed, hollowly and mirthlessly. "What truth? The fact that I was a Sith lord? That I've been played like a puppet by the Jedi Council?"

"That all may be true, but there is more to it than that," Rani responded, her face a mask of sincerity.

"Oh, yes, there is more, isn't there? The fact that I didn't die on Malachor, so Kavar was sent there by the Jedi Council to kill me? If there are more truths like these, then I don't want to hear them." Carina swiftly stood and resorted to kicking a few boxes to show her anger.

"I'm not going to lie to you. You killed people. You killed innocents. You became very powerful through the dark side, and you reveled in that power. It became your companion when you felt that no one cared. But you were wrong in that assumption. _I_ cared, Mical cared, Igrayne, Evy, Carth…we all cared about you."

"If that was the case, then how did I fall?" Carina asked bitterly, leaning against the durasteel wall of the hold.

"I've done a lot of thinking since you died—since I _thought_ you were dead—and there is only one conclusion I can come up with," Rani said, quietly, as if she was about to tell a grave secret.

Carina turned around to face the other woman, one brow raised in curiosity, "which is?"

"You were taken up by the Jedi from a very young age. When you were a Jedi knight, you were young, and passionate, and very powerful, and I believe…" Rani's voice dropped even further. "…That the council was afraid of you. I believe they thought it was inevitable that you would fall to the dark side, so they tested you, pushed you to the very limits of human restraint. I believe you fell because of what the council did to you."

The green-eyed woman, hungry for answers, stared deep into Rani's eyes, looking for any sign of deceit. "What did they do to me?"

Rani's brow immediately furrowed. She gripped her arm hard as if contemplating whether it was a good idea to reveal such information.

"Tell me!" Carina demanded, sending boxes flying by the mere strength of her emotion through the Force.

"They sent you on a mission to either turn your family away from the dark side—or kill them," Rani said in an even, measured tone.

Carina sat down heavily on a box, disbelieving. _The Jedi Council did that?_

Rani waited a few moments, allowing her answer to sink in. Then she sat down beside Carina. "I can't imagine any of this is easy to hear."

Carina turned her face to look at Rani, and the woman almost gasped. Carina's piercing green eyes smoldered with anger. "I'm dangerous, Rani," Carina said, using her name for the first time.

For the first time, Rani truly believed her.

"I can feel this power inside of me, and sometimes I feel like it's bigger than even I am," Carina revealed.

Rani was silent, permitting Carina to continue.

"I'm evil."

"You are not evil," Rani countered immediately, rising to accentuate her point.

"How do you know?!" Carina answered, standing and Force pushing the bowl of water to the ground.

The bowl hit the ground with a loud "clank," and the blood-red water spilled out across the floor like a gruesome crime scene.

Rani had not flinched, but she looked very sad. A few loose curls fell into her face, and her eyes were large and filled with sorrow. "There is more to your life, Carina, more to yourself. Some things I can tell you, and some you will just have to figure out on your own."

"Why won't you just leave me alone? After all I've done, why even make the effort?"

"I've seen you at your worst, but I've also seen you at your best. Do you know how you ended up on Malachor, buried under the remains of the Trayus Academy? I was there when everyone thought you died. You brought the whole of the academy down on your own head—and on the heads of more than half the Sith forces—to save me…to save the galaxy. The victory at the Battle of Dantooine would never have been possible without your actions. It was your final selfless act…the act of redemption."

"Why did you bring me here? What do you want from me?" Carina asked in a hushed tone.

"Simply this: give yourself the chance to be surrounded by people who truly do care about you. You'll be surprised how much you can learn about yourself by the people you loved."

--

Indy thought it felt damn good to be back at the helm of the _Centurion's Blade_, and she said so too.

"It feels damn good to be back in the air with my _Centurion's Blade_."

Han looked sideways at her with a crooked smile. "Where are we running off to now?"

"Nar Shaddaa," Indy said, leaning back in her pilot's chair.

"Ah," was Han's clipped response.

"What do you mean, 'ah'?" Indy questioned, looking slightly disturbed. "It's the best place for us to stay hidden for a while."

"I ain't arguing with ya, kid."

"Then, what's the 'ah' all about?" she questioned.

"It's just an 'ah'! Can't a man say 'ah' without a huge argument?!" Han fumed, crossing his arms defiantly across his chest.

That was all Indy needed to hear. "You got trouble in Nar Shaddaa, don't you?"

"Well, I'm sure the Exchange isn't going to be exactly thrilled to see me after I've been MIA for weeks."

Indy suddenly remembered how back on Telos, Han had broken her out of her Force cage after she had been captured by Czerka. After the Battle on Dantooine, he had joined the Exchange in an effort to gain information to help protect Indy.

"It's okay Han, there are plenty of places to hide from the Exchange on Nar Shaddaa."

"Not for me there aren't."

--

Trinn felt more than a little trapped. She wasn't quite sure why she had left Kuat with the others. She told herself it was because she wanted to get away from the insane Jene Cyrus. But now, in the same ship as Admiral Carth Onasi, she felt safe for the first time in years. She knew it was ridiculous. The lot of them were being hunted by the Jene, the Exchange, the Sith, Czerka, and even the Republic now that they were considered fugitives.

"Of all the people to find myself a runaway with," she mumbled, slouching in a chair in the main hold of the ship.

At her quiet words, the tall, skinny, dark-haired scoundrel named Atton shifted in his seat but continued snoring loudly as he slept. She didn't know much about him, but from what she had so far observed, he was food- and sleep-deprived, and he was very concerned about the blonde woman named Evy who was being kept in the kolto tank. As much as she realized the man needed his rest, she wished he'd wake up. Boredom was not a fine companion.

The Jedi, Igrayne, and the heartbroken blonde doctor, Mical, were both locked in the medbay. Trinn assumed they were diligently caring for Evy and Mithic, who both were still unconscious.

The Zabrak, Bao-Dur—from whom Trinn saw a flash of a lightsaber at his utility best and realized he was a Jedi too—had run off to the garage, ardently fixing Force-knows-what.

Trinn had no idea where the burnt Rani, the confused Carina, the flirtatious Tren, or Carth's son were, and she really didn't care. Carth had walked into the main hold several times, and each time Trinn had sat up straighter in her chair, hoping he would stop to talk to her. Each time he passed her by hurriedly without so much as a passing glance. She knew he was busy, but she was anxious to speak to him. If anything, she felt the need to tell him she had seen his wife die and to offer her condolences.

Footsteps sounded from the hallway behind Trinn and she straightened up in her seat once more, hoping Carth might have time for her now. Instead, Trentyn came strolling in the room, shirtless, with a towel thrown over his shoulder.

"Oh, it's just you," she said, sinking back into the plush chair.

"Just me?" Tren questioned with mock offense. "If I'm not enough for you, doll, then I don't know what is."

"_Doll?_" Trinn choked out. She couldn't remember the last time a man had the guts to talk to her with such familiarity. "Please, I'm no doll; I could kick your ass."

Tren laughed good-naturedly and rubbed the towel over his short raven hair, accidentally flicking some water on Trinn.

"Hey, watch it! You're getting me wet!"

"Why, you worried? You gonna melt, doll?" Tren teased.

Trinn was at a temporary loss for words. This man was a shameless flirt with a lot of guts. To hide her speechlessness, she gave him the death stare. Tren laughed again, and then tossed his towel at her, and it landed unceremoniously on her head.

"Here, dry up, doll."

For the moment, Trinn was glad her face was covered by the towel, because she was blushing furiously. This man was playing her like a chidinkalu flute. She pulled the towel off of her head, messing up her neat ponytail in the process. She threw the towel back at the wannabe Casanova and stood up to her full height, facing him. They were exactly the same height.

"Listen carefully, I'm not here to be picked up on, and honestly, you aren't smooth enough to pick me up even if I was willing. So if you don't mind, you can stop trying now."

Tren smiled his maddeningly confident smile and then held his hands up in supplication. "Forgive me. Really, I'm not trying to hit on you; I'm just trying to lighten the mood a bit."

Trinn nodded stiffly and then turned away to sit down because she didn't know what else to do.

"And actually, I was just trying to break the ice so I could thank you."

"For what?" Trinn asked.

"For saving our lives. Me, Carth, and my sister all owe our lives to you."

"Uh…don't mention it…" Trinn began, not expecting the sentiment from the man. "Maybe after all this is over you can pay me back."

"Maybe…doll," Tren said, winking and then disappearing around the corner.

As Trinn was still stunned into a bout of speechlessness due to Tren's unexpected sentiment, the _Blade_ suddenly gave a terrible lurch, tearing her from her thoughts. Trinn managed to grab hold of her seat in order to prevent herself from unbalancing herself, but Atton was not so lucky, as he tumbled out of his chair with an audible thump.

Trinn couldn't help but smile as she stared down at Atton, who lay sprawled upon the floor. For a moment, he didn't even seem to register what had happened as he stared blankly at her, looking tired and groggy.

"Real nice, flyboy," Trinn taunted, when the ship had stopped its jolting. "Excellent display of balance right there."

She joked, although a part of her pitied him. The man seemed to have been through a lot and he looked to be in poor shape. But honestly, she didn't know why she cared…after all, she hardly even knew any of these people.

At her remark, Atton merely glared at her with half-open eyes before slowly righting himself, running a hand through his mussed brown hair.

"Yeah, well it's a little hard to balance yourself when you're sleeping…" he replied moodily.

Trinn rolled her eyes but tried her hand at a bit of sympathy. Well…sort of…

"This is a pretty piss-poor place to catch up on some sleep. We have dorms, you know. And you look like hell. Why doncha go make use of them?"

"Gee, thanks," Atton grumbled, but he actually seemed to consider the option. "I can take a hint when my company isn't wanted."

Trinn really didn't consider Atton very good "company" anyway, as the only noises he uttered in her presence were a series of snorts and snores, so she merely shrugged him off. Still looking half-asleep, Atton staggered down the adjacent hallway toward the dorm rooms, leaving Trinn to once again wallow in her newfound boredom.

--

As Atton made his way to the dormitories, he contemplated making another detour to the medical lab but decided against it. It probably wouldn't do him any good and he'd most likely be shooed away once again. Mical and Igrayne seemed to need some relative peace and quiet as they carefully watched over their two friends, and that was understandable.

Understandable, but also very frustrating.

Releasing a sigh, Atton entered one of the dorms to see that it was vacant, save for a few scattered belongings. He suspected that someone else was also making use of the living space, but he didn't know who it was and he didn't care. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and the only things he desired at the moment were sleep and for Evy to be well again. Unfortunately, he had no control over one of those things, so the alternative would have to suffice for the time being. That is, _if_ he was even able to sleep…

He slowly made his way over to one of the cots, slumping down into a sitting position. He was so tired that he almost felt _beyond_ tired and he didn't even know that such a thing was possible. Never in his life had he felt so utterly drained. Trying not to dwell further on his unhealthy condition, Atton furiously rubbed his eyes before removing his jacket, trying to compensate for the discomfort his body was feeling. He still felt somewhat restricted, so he decided to ditch his shirt as well. As the scoundrel tossed the two articles of clothing into a pile on the floor, a loud whistle sounded from the doorway.

"What is this, the boys' locker room?"

Atton turned his head slightly to see a shirtless Tren strut into the room with a towel still thrown over his shoulder and several food packets in his arms. He had a genuine smile upon his handsome features, which would normally lift Atton's spirit. But not even his best friend seemed to bring him any comfort…

"Oh, hey Tren…" Atton said with lack of emotion.

Tren's playful demeanor immediately faltered as his eyes skimmed over Atton. It was really the first time he had taken a good, hard look at the state of his friend's mental and physical health. Atton had always been thin, always priding himself on staying in good shape, but his jutting collarbone and prominent ribcage were almost disturbing. His pallid complexion and the dark circles beneath his eyes only contributed to his sickly appearance.

"Damn it, man," Tren muttered. "You look like hell."

Atton scowled at him.

"Thanks for being the second person in the last five minutes to inform me of that fact."

"Seriously, bro, when's the last time you had something to eat?"

Atton shrugged. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had eaten anything of real substance. He had been more concerned about Evy's state of health than his own. When Atton didn't answer him, Tren pressed further.

"Come on. When was it? Yesterday? Two days ago?"

"Listen Tren, I don't know," he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "But I'm fine, all right? Right now I just want to try and get some sleep, if you don't mind."

"But I _do_ mind," said Tren sincerely. "You, Evy, and my sister are really the only things I've got right now. And I'm not letting you sleep until you eat something. Here."

He threw a food packet at Atton, who barely caught it before it hit him in the face. He stared down at the processed food, frowning deeply as his stomach gave an unpleasant flip.

"I really can't eat this right now…"

Tren's eyes narrowed as he pointed a threatening finger at the man who was like a brother to him.

"I swear, if you don't eat that food I'm going to drag you down to the medbay and inject your bony ass full of nutrients." Atton raised a doubtful eyebrow at him, so Tren added, "I'm not even joking. Don't you dare think I won't do it!"

Releasing another sigh, Atton gave in and opened the food packet. The concept of being injected with anything was not a pleasant one. Especially when it involved his best friend, a needle, and his ass.

"Yeah, that's what I _thought_," Tren said, looking immensely pleased as he watched Atton slowly begin to eat. "I knew you'd see the light."

Tren laughed to himself as he deposited several more packets of food by Atton's bed before playfully tossing the towel at him.

"You might want to take a shower after your little nap," he joked. "You're smelling kind of ripe."

Atton meant to reply to his friend with an equally witty and insulting remark, but his gaze had become focused upon a peculiar scar-like mark where Tren's towel had previously been resting on his chest. He hadn't noticed it before, but then again, he hadn't had much contact with his friend as of late. If Atton wasn't mistaken, the scar resembled a healed scorch mark, as though it had been made from a blaster bolt. And a freshly healed one, at that. But that didn't make sense. If Tren had sustained a blaster wound in his absence with Evy during their capture, the wound couldn't have possibly healed in a matter of days. Tren didn't even seem to notice that Atton was blatantly staring at him as he continued to sort through several old shirts before deciding on one.

"Hey, Tren?"

"Yeah, man?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, bro. Shoot."

"That scar on your chest. I've never seen it before. Did something…happen to you recently?"

Tren instantly paled a shade or two, cursing himself for not being more careful. He realized the implications of telling his best friend the truth about how Evy had healed him just as Evy had healed Atton on Dantooine. Even Tren wasn't quite sure why Evy's amazing healing powers had manifested themselves again, and he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know…

"Oh, you mean this?" Tren asked, trying to play things cool as he casually pointed to the scar on his chest. "This thing has been here forever. I usually…uh…cover it up with Rani's makeup so nobody can see it. It's pretty nasty. Wouldn't want to sicken anyone, you know? And you know how I am in regard to my appearance…"

He grinned stupidly at Atton as he pulled his shirt on, probably hoping his charming good looks would work even on him…but Atton didn't buy it. Atton was just about to open his mouth to express his doubts and try to get some real truth out of him, but both men were taken by surprise when Igrayne burst into the room looking uncharacteristically distraught.

"What the hell?"

"Atton," said Igrayne sternly. "We need you in the medical lab. _Now_."

The scoundrel jumped from his place on the cot in an instant, immediately becoming alert as his heart pounded furiously in his chest.

"Is something wrong with kitten?" Tren asked, looking tense and concerned. "If so, then I'm coming, too!"

"She's having complications," Igrayne said vaguely. "And if we don't get her out of that kolto tank as soon as possible, her health may be at stake."

--

There was a flash, and then nothingness. The room slowly came into view, but it seemed like it was something from a dream. Mithic was sitting at a table in tactical station on the bridge of an interdictor cruiser. The bridge floated through a field of wreckage as if it were part of a fallen ship from part of a battle. The table was in the shape of an oval, and it had the Sith emblem embossed on the center. There were twelve chairs seated on the floating room, and he occupied one of the end seats. He looked up, and horror was directly in his sights. Darth Eklipse, the wretch of the galaxy himself, was seated opposite him. The Sith lord looked directly at him with a piercing glare, and then he spoke.

"Welcome, filth. You are inside one of the greatest technological marvels ever created by my workers at the Tion Base. This room controls all of the commands of the ship from within the minds of my top bridge officers. I am telling you this because you will get to see it in action soon, and I thought you might want to have something to tell your Republic friends when you return. Although they surely won't believe you that the Sith—or any other threat—will be jeopardizing their rule anytime soon. They'll write you off as a madman, claiming the galaxy is full of evil and the dark side, just like the pitiful Jedi on your side. You'll be pushed aside and will no longer be a thorn in my side. That will play perfectly into my hands."

"What sort of lies are you conjuring up for me, brother?" Mithic responded. "What sort of place is this, and what is your purpose in bringing me here?"

"This is the future. I am teaching you. I have already explained this to you, filth."

"Why would you call my spirit here if all you were doing was telling me tactical information on your fleet? I didn't expect such rashness and stupidity, even from you. There is no possible purpose for you giving away free information to the enemy."

"Oh, how naïve you are…" Eklipse trailed off for a moment of silence. "My showing you this has set future events in motion. You will be here, eventually, and you will be cut down and silenced here. There is no way to stop it."

When Eklipse stopped speaking, Mithic took a moment to observe the wrecks of the ships in space behind him. There were Republic cruisers—easily identified by their colors and their "hammerhead" shape—Sith capital ships, some freighters, many destroyed fighters belonging to both sides, and some pieces that could not be identified. This would truly be a spectacular battle when it finally took place.

The evil clone began again. "I will take my leave now. Goodbye, filth, until we meet again."

The form of the Sith lord disappeared from view, and the space around Mithic faded to nothingness again. He was back to wherever he was before the meeting in the future battle site. He stretched out with the Force and detected a camera in the room. He invaded the circuitry and gained an image of the surrounding room. He was in a kolto tank, with the other tank occupied by one of his companions—Evy, as the name returned to his mind. The healer from the medical facility on Telos was there, too, monitoring the kolto patients. Mical had a worried and sorrowful countenance, but still he wrote data into his patient charts as if nothing was bothering him. The camera was controlled through central circuits that wired to a computer in another room, and he followed through to gain a view of the entire area. All of his previous companions were present, plus two he didn't recognize: two women—one in the main hold and one in the cargo hold. He would have to learn their identities later. The man on the bridge seemed to have detected the intrusion on the security cameras, so Mithic withdrew his control and went back into a Force healing trance.

--

Evy fought to take a breath of air. When she opened her eyes, she was in a medical bay with sterile white walls and instruments laid out in three even rows on a table before her. A lone figure stared helplessly back at her as she struggled in her watery prison. Evy pounded furiously upon the glass walls that bound her, making a futile attempt at screaming for help, only to realize that her efforts were useless; her sounds were muted by the breath mask strapped to her mouth. Unthinking, she grasped at it, and the mask came unbound with surprising ease. A wave of panic shot through her body as she felt her thoughts once again slipping into darkness…

Just when she thought she would lose consciousness, three more figures arrived in the room, giving her brief hope for a rescue.

It was not long before she felt several pairs of hands on her all at once, some trying to hoist her out of the tank while others tried to reapply her now defunct breathing mask to her face. She felt a weightlessness as she was lifted from the kolto, and then a heavy pressure obstructed her from drawing her first breath.

"Put her down!" a frantic male voice called. The voice issued another authoritative command. "The kolto is filling her lungs. Stand back…"

A ragged blonde head hovered over her, preparing to administer life-saving support, when Atton caught his arm.

"Let me do this!"

"Atton, she's not breathing!" Igrayne said shrilly, aware that time was of the essence.

He bent over, pressing his lips to hers in an attempt to save her life. He alternated between breathing mouth to mouth and applying pressure to her chest. His movements were sharp and practiced, and Igrayne was impressed with his level of expertise at performing the life-saving tactic. She only hoped it worked to help save her friend.

"Whoa, going for tongue there, Rand?" Tren remarked, completely unaware how inappropriately timed the failed joke was.

"Get out, you idiot!" Igrayne snapped. Tren was so surprised he couldn't think of any other smart remark to throw back at her. Instead, he allowed himself to be ushered out of the room by a panicked Igrayne.

Evy coughed a few times, her body reacting violently to release the kolto from her lungs. She sat up immediately, gasping for air. The look of pure fright on her delicate features was all Atton needed to see to put his arms around her and pull her into a thankful embrace. Though normally such a reaction would have been foreign to him, he had realized his feelings for Evy were too important for him to be clinging to a bruised ego. Evy similarly clutched him, her face timidly pressed against his neck, thankful to be free of that hellish nightmare.

"Oh, Atton…" she gasped, as if saying his name was all she needed to do to convince herself that her terrifying episode was finally over.

"It's okay," he whispered, allowing his hand to work up a soothing motion along her back. "I'm here now…you're gonna be all right."

"You're alive!" Igrayne said, throwing herself at her friend despite the fact Atton was in between them. Sandwiched between the two women, the squished scoundrel shot her an annoyed look.

"Give her some space, will you?"

"Sorry. It's just…so good to see Evy," she said with a trembling voice, unshed tears welling up in her eyes. One of the only people in whom she could confide had been incapacitated for the long leg of their journey, which didn't help matters much for Igrayne.

"It's good to see you, too, Igrayne."

When the trembling of Evy's limbs had subsided to the point where Mical was confident she would be all right, he said, "Igrayne, go and check on Mithic's tank."

She obeyed without question. She trotted the short distance back over to the tank and assessed Mithic's readout.

"Mithic's vitals indicate he's coming out of the imposed stasis effects of the kolto."

"We shall have to prepare him. Give me time to arrange my workspace."

Evy was still too shaken by the incident. She lifted a hand to her head and smoothed it across the oily residue left over from the kolto.

"What happened?" she queried Atton in between breaths.

"Your heart rate dropped considerably, and we had difficulty regulating it. We detected some irregularities in your breathing, and that was when I sent Igrayne to get help," Mical answered for the scoundrel, who was in no way fluent in medical lingo.

Evy clutched her chest to try and calm her labored breathing. Atton smoothed a hand through her hair and used that hand to gently guide her face toward him.

"You okay, sweets?"

"I think so." She met his eyes and felt her heart soften toward him. He was being uncharacteristically kind and gentle toward her.

"It's good to have you back," he added.

Evy offered him a weak smile, but as she tried to move she was assaulted by pain.

"Don't try to move just yet," Mical cautioned her. "Though your bones are healing, they still need time to mend. You must get some proper bed rest. I think there are still some spare dorms."

"I feel like hell," Evy complained.

"All natural, I can assure you. With rest, you should be able to make a full recovery."

"Come on, sweets; let me get you to the dorms." Atton paused. "You sure she doesn't need to stay under medical observation?"

"No, I am quite confident she will be all right."

Atton took a blanket from the nearby cot, placing it around Evy's shoulders as he scooped her up in his arms and walked with her to the abandoned port dormitories. He helped her to sit down, gingerly clearing off a place for her on one of the beds.

Though her heart was still racing, it had slowed considerably since her brush with death. She felt the bed give way underneath her as Atton sat down adjacent to her. He had one palm planted on the bed, which he used to stroke back a few errant strands of hair from her face. He stifled a laugh when he realized his hand was now covered in kolto. Evy shared in the laughter and sobered once she saw how intently Atton was studying her face. She was painfully aware how skimpy the small tank and shorts she was wearing were, and they, too, were matted down in kolto.

"Maybe I should head to the 'fresher. I could use a bit of cleaning up."

"Yeah," Atton said with a chuckle. "Me too."

Evy's mouth dimpled with a coy smile. "Did you just invite yourself into my shower?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Moving kinda fast, aren't you?" she joked. "I've hardly been awake for ten minutes. And I've been almost dying for about two of them."

"It's been a while, sweets."

At his words, her mind returned to how they had left things before her accident, and this became the shadow hanging over both of their heads. Several moments of silence passed before Evy found the courage to speak again.

"Atton," she began tentatively, her lower lip shivering now that the kolto was beginning to cool down her body, "when I was hurt, you said you were willing to do anything to be in my life."

"Evy, I—"

"No," she interrupted, "I want to finish this. You told me that, and the truth is I would do the same for you."

_Even if it means sacrificing everything in which I believe_. The thought involuntarily popped into Evy's mind. She took in Atton's disheveled appearance—his mussed brown hair which stuck up in several directions, his week-old clothing which could use the benefit of washing, and the bags under his eyes—all of which bore testament to the fact he had hardly slept in the time she had been suspended in the kolto tank. All these signs were touching. And they all added up to one fact: she was willing to do what she needed in order to make things work between them.

Atton's mute approval came in the form of a sheepish smile, and she took a visual imprint of it in her mind so she would never forget his response.

"All right. We'll talk about this later. But for now, you need to take a shower and get some sleep."

Atton stood up and stretched, walking out of the dormitories to go consult Carth about their trajectory. When he was finally gone, Evy resisted the idea of taking a shower in the 'fresher. The bed she was in seemed so warm and comfortable…

--

Igrayne bent double over the toilet, her stomach involuntarily emptying itself of its contents. Flying in hyperspace, coupled with her heightened nerves over Evy's safety, had put her on edge. She had been so caught up in the ensuing chaos that she had not taken care of herself.

The _Blade_, helmed by Han and Indy, took a sudden, swerving nosedive, and Igrayne thought she would be sick again.

"Did I interrupt your date with the toilet?" a male voice said from behind her.

She cleansed her face and looked up into the youthful face of the younger Onasi. Dustil seemed amused, if anything, to see her in such disarray, but he did not forget his manners. He extended a hand to her.

"Dustil." She tried to search for an excuse, though it wasn't entirely false. "Flying in hyperspace makes me sick."

"I wouldn't think a nurse would have such a weak stomach."

"Former nurse," she corrected him. Then, without skipping a beat, she said, "What do you want? Are you here to finish what we started?"

"No, I heard you getting sick and came to see if you were okay. Are you?"

"I think so. The worst of it has passed," Igrayne said, fighting a wave of nausea as she stood up. The queasiness in the pit of her stomach seemed to be subsiding. It was partly due to the ship's stabilized course, and partly to the fact that Dustil was exhibiting signs of kindness toward her.

"I think we're done here," she said, cleaning her hands in the small sink before attempting to leave. Dustil was forming a barricade in the door with his whole body. He was slender and beginning to sprout a smattering of stubble on his chin, which improved his overall attractiveness to Igrayne. It made him appear much older than the nineteen years he could no more have been.

"Not so fast. There's a few things we haven't talked about."

Igrayne gave a sigh and pulled Dustil into the cramped quarters, if only for a modicum of privacy.

"There's nothing to talk about… _Well_, there is one thing. Did you mean what you said about me?"

"Yes," Dustil replied. "I don't want to share you with him."

Igrayne started for the door, feeling disgusted with herself for the whole situation.

"Where are you going?"

"To talk to Bao-Dur."

"Of course," he said with a characteristic sneer.

She entered the garage, silently nothing now unusually quiet it was. Bao-Dur was laboring over the workbench and didn't even hear her enter. She had to announce herself by clearing her throat.

He studied her from afar but did not give voice to his thoughts. She could detect no outward trace of emotion, which bothered her. The fact that he was an alien had never been more apparent than now, in their forced emotional distance from one another.

"How are your repairs coming?"

The Zabrak looked at her, clearly annoyed, but said nothing. Perhaps now was not the best time for small talk, Igrayne decided.

"I came to discuss…_things_. I didn't like the way things were left between us."

When it was clear she was going to elicit no response from him, she moved toward the door. She could almost feel the anger manifesting itself in a tangible wave of emotion that forced her toward the door. Before she could leave, Bao-Dur said with reservation, "You did not answer my question, Igrayne."

She knew he was referring to whether or not the fact he was an alien had anything to do with the kiss she had shared with Dustil. With great hesitance, she answered, "Yes."

She read the subtle change in his mood almost immediately. His jaw visibly tensed, the only sign of his anger with the situation now that their Force bond had all but dissolved itself. She didn't quite need the Force to reach out and feel what he was thinking; it was written all over his face.

"I see," was all he said.

Igrayne exited the garage at once, glad to be rid of his penetrating stare. Then she set her sights on the medbay, where Mical was currently tending his one remaining patient. She needed to get back to her post and get her thoughts off Bao-Dur.

When she entered, Mical was rearranging his medical instruments and preparing for he transfer of Mithic to one of the medbay's two unoccupied cots. He looked up when she entered.

"Igrayne, you look ill. Are you all right?"

"All this jumping around in hyperspace has me a bit tired," she admitted.

"Yes, you can use some rest. It has been a stressful day for all of us."

"If you don't mind, I'll catch a few winks here for a couple of minutes."

"Go right ahead. Tren will soon be on his way over to assist me with the transfer of John Mithic."

She laid down to sleep on one of the cots. When she awoke, she didn't feel much rested. It was not long before Tren came barging into the room, accompanied by his sister Rani.

"What can I do for you?" Mical asked, clipboard in hand, addressing the golden-brown-haired woman when she stood before him.

"I've got Carina sedated for the time being, but I'm going to need some more of your medicines—an ointment perhaps. And I need you."

"Pardon?"

"You have to talk to her, Mical. She's in shock. I think she needs to hear the truth from the one who loves her. I think if you just sit down with her you'll find—"

"That is not possible," Mical said snappishly, making a furious note that wasn't really a note at all on his clipboard. "She doesn't wish to speak to me, and any attempt I made at reaching out to her was refused."

"Well, try again," Rani said, flipping her long, waist-length hair over her shoulder. "She needs to hear the voice of reason. Please, Mical."

"Absolutely not. Can't you see I've suffered enough sleepless nights over her?"

There was no disputing that fact. The once naïve doctor's haggard appearance bore testament to the fact that he was no longer the same man. He hardly cared about his appearance, and it showed. The beard he now sported was a tangled mess, and no matter how hard Carth had tried to persuade him to shave it off, he felt it pointless to do so.

"Look, I know how hard this is for you, but she needs you. She's so lost and alone right now, and no matter what I say, nothing will heal the wound. You've known her far longer and…well…you two had a _relationship_…" The senator hopeful tried to say it with tact, but despite this fact, it came out sounding accusatory.

"It was hardly that," Mical corrected her primly. "It seems I was not the only one deluding myself into thinking thus."

"Well, whatever it was, I know you can reach her in a way no one else can."

"I do not intend to be rude, Rani, but I must take care of my patient." He said this with a sense of finality, but Rani was not about to be told what to do.

"No, you listen to me. She's in a very precarious place right now. She needs to know there is one who will stand beside her in all that she does."

Mical rifled through the assortment of medicines until he came across an ointment, and he handed it to Rani. She quickly pocketed it, miffed that her plea was falling on deaf ears, and raced for the door.

"What do you need that for anyway?"

"The wounds she inflicted on herself," Rani said bitingly, her brown eyes blazing with fury when it was evident Mical was not going to help her. She left to go administer the ointment to the traumatized woman. Tren and Igrayne said nothing as Mical continued making his preparations. His hands moved meticulously over instruments as he contemplated what Rani had told him.

After a few moments of silent introspection, he looked up and said, "Do you think you two can handle Mithic alone?"

"Yes, he's not heavy. Between the two of us, we can lift him, and I'll be here to care for him when he finally wakes up."

"Wait a minute. What's this _we_ business?" Tren queried. "Aren't you the same woman who's been screaming her lungs out for me to leave the medbay?"

"Please, Tren, don't argue."

Tren turned on the charm. "All right. But _I'm_ doing _you_ a favor."

"Very well. I shall return shortly," Mical said, taking off at a quick run for the cargo hold in which Carina was contained.

--

Trentyn sat on one of the medbay cots, waiting for the captain to awaken. Until then, he would just have to sit in boredom. Igrayne was finishing preparations for Mithic's removal from the kolto tank, laying out the needed materials near the unoccupied cot. Tren watched her as she performed the task, observing the characteristics of Igrayne that contributed to her beauty, subtly eyeing her up while he thought she wasn't paying attention.

Igrayne knew Tren was watching her, and she didn't even need the Force to figure it out. It was just the way he was. She turned about and said to him in a peeved tone of voice, "Is there something you want to tell me or do you just enjoy watching me at work?"

Tren put his charm back on and replied, "I'm going to have to go with the latter on this one."

Igrayne frowned to him and told him, "Well, you should be monitoring our patient, Tren. He might very well have woken up while you were staring at me." She glanced at the kolto tank and saw that Mithic's eyes were wide open and watching their conversation. "See what I mean?" she said.

Trentyn looked over at the kolto tank and got up when he realized it was time to work. Igrayne beat him to the tank, as she was closer, and was beginning to deactivate the healing chamber. While she had her hand on the first control, the top of the kolto tank was lifting up. Tren turned toward her and indicated this fact.

"Uhh…I think Mithic beat ya to it."

Igrayne looked up. The top of the kolto tank was open, and John Mithic was lifting himself out of the tank with the Force. Once his face was out of the pool of kolto in the tank, he lifted the breath mask off his face. His body still submerged from the shoulders down in the tank, he opened his mouth and spoke.

"So, what'd I miss? Last time I had my sight, I was on a freighter and I was holding that grenade…" He paused and looked down, remembering the fact he had been in a kolto tank. "Oh. Now I remember. Are you two going to help me out of here?"

Trentyn brought one of the medical cots over from the other side of the medbay. Mithic lifted himself out of the kolto chamber and levitated himself a meter off the ground. Igrayne went to get a towel from the pile she had arranged and gave it to the captain. He wiped off most of the kolto from his body and then sat down on the cot. Igrayne directed Tren to help her with some post-treatment tests on Mithic, and he passed all of them. She informed Mithic he was free to leave.

"Did you guys get any of my clothes from the _Sunbeam_?" he said.

Igrayne wondered how he knew he wasn't aboard his own ship. "Carth said he grabbed one bag from the ship before it…" She trailed off.

"Before it what, Igrayne?" Mithic asked.

"Mithic, a madman who has decided to hunt us down planted a bomb on your ship. We didn't find out until it was about to blow," she told him solemnly.

Mithic looked at the floor and did not say anything, but his anger poured from his thoughts into the Force. He looked up at her. "Who was it? Do you know?"

"Jene Cyrus."

Mithic did not reply for a moment, and he looked down to the cold durasteel below his feet. He looked up again. "Where is the bag?" he asked.

"I don't really know; you'll have to track down Carth and ask him yourself."

At that, Mithic got up, thanked Trentyn and Igrayne for their help, and left. He noted a security camera in the hallway outside of the medbay and entered through it to the security mainframe. The camera indicated that Carth was in a different hallway near the main hold. Mithic turned in stride toward the main hold, keeping his link on the security console. He looked up basic and tactical data on the ship. Apparently it was called the _Centurion's Blade_ and it was registered to one Rheya "Indy" Pollard. The freighter had two cannons controlled by the cockpit controls and two turrets, one starboard and one port. The cannons were quad-linked laser cannons, and each also held controls for a pair of concussion missile launchers and one proton torpedo tube. The cargo hold also held a host of concealed guns that could be activated from a switch in the cockpit, which opened a hatch on the outside of the ship and lowered them. There was one seat behind the guns that came up when they did, and the controls for firing were on it. This ship was armed to the teeth, it seemed.

_These must be new modifications because when I saw this ship at Telos, it had four cannons, _Mithic thought as he walked through the ship. He was in the main hold in under a minute, showing that the kolto treatment hadn't affected his agility much. Mithic paused mid-step, and Carth walked through the hold right on cue.

"John Mithic! Glad to see you up and out of the kolto tank, Captain," Carth said.

"And you, Admiral." Mithic paused. "I was told you retrieved one of my bags before the ship blew. Could you maybe tell me where it is now?"

"I put it down in one of the dormitories. I'll show you to it."

The officers went through the halls of the_ Blade_, neither noting the fact that Mithic was clothed only in the pair of shorts he had been in while undergoing kolto treatment. Carth made a left turn into one of the port dormitories, walked over to the bed, and picked up a black bag.

"Here it is," the admiral said to Mithic, and handed it to him.

Mithic was relieved to see that the bag was, indeed, the one he had been hoping for—his combat bag. Inside was his array of blaster pistols, his lightsaber, and his uniform. The combat clothes had been burned along with his torso in the blast, but his Republic outfit was stashed inside the bag from when he had worn it before they had boarded the mercenary freighter. He asked Carth if he could borrow the 'fresher, and the admiral nodded. Mithic stepped into the 'fresher and closed the door. He donned his uniform and took off the kolto-stained shorts. The captain folded the shorts, put them into the bag, and took out two blasters and his lightsaber. He had crafted a special holder for the lightsaber inside a glow lamp, and he put it on his belt. He put one blaster into his belt holster and the other into his concealed boot holster. He considered for a moment putting a third into his jacket holster, but he felt no immediate threat aboard the ship, so he closed the bag. He got up and left the 'fresher.

As Mithic passed Carth, he thanked him for retrieving the bag and walked back to the main hold. He sat down across the room from the woman he didn't recognize and pulled out a flask of Corellian ale. He muttered under his breath, "It's going to be a long time before I go near a thermal charge again." He chuckled softly to himself, drawing a quick glance from the mysterious woman in the main hold, and took a sip of ale.


	20. En Route to Nar Shaddaa

Carina felt like a caged animal. The walls surrounding her seemed to continue to close in on her, swallowing her up completely, taking away every last bit of freedom and sanity she possessed. The cargo hold felt stuffy despite it being the coldest room in the entire ship. Carina could swear the room was growing smaller with every step she took in her ceaseless pacing. This was all ridiculous, of course, but it was all the reality that Carina could grasp at the moment.

Her life was a lie. The simple truth of that fact haunted her despite her attempts to escape it. And she did try to escape it. First, she had tried to ignore it completely, but that had not worked. Then she had tried to forget about it all, and that didn't work either. Finally, she had tried to eliminate the source of her memories and suffering by aiding Cyrus, and that had failed as well. It seemed all she could do was mess up. _She_ was a failure.

She took a breath, reaching out through the Force only to find that it felt distant from her, like a mere whisper on the wind. She could feel the vestiges of it surrounding her, but her mind was such a muddle of confusion that she couldn't focus well enough to tap into it completely. It made her feel quite helpless, and she hated that feeling. It seemed almost as if she was losing the very thing that sustained her, as if she was slowly sinking into oblivion.

Eventually Carina tired of walking endlessly around the small expanse of the cargo hold and simply sat in one of the corners, trying to escape the taunting of her own thoughts. Her mind mocked her by being silent; it was that silence that meant there was an absence. That absence was her memories of the past, and oh, how she tried to remember now. With every fiber of her being, she hungered to know about her past, about the woman she once was. Had she been a good person before her fall to the dark side? Had she truly been friends with Rani? Had she been someone worthy of being loved?

_Do I deserve love anymore?_

The thought came unbidden into her mind. _Love_. It was such a small word, yet it affected her to the core. In retrospect, everything she'd done to get to this point was for love, but she'd never really thought of it before now.

She stood and gazed out one of the viewports, watching the stars slip silently by, their light intermingling with that of the surrounding darkness. Space was beautiful; she had always thought so, and she'd always wanted a chance to simply slow down and gaze at it. However, now that she had the chance, it wasn't as fulfilling. Too much pain clouded her thoughts, tainting her enjoyment of the scene. The stars slowly faded out of her view as she slid back to the ground, her hands trembling.

Why couldn't she remember? What had happened to her to make her forget everything that had made her who she was? Perhaps this was her chance to become a better person. Perhaps it was a blessing she couldn't remember. Yet something deep down told her that wasn't the case. Something told her she needed to find out about the person she was. That she _had_ to find out.

With all the thoughts flying about in her head, it was no wonder she eventually began to tire herself out with her constant worrying and fretting. Inflicting pain on herself hadn't helped the situation either, only prolonged her misery. She closed her eyes, taking in a sharp breath. She held it and released slowly in an effort to calm herself. It was a technique she had been taught her during her Jedi training. She repeated the process until she slowly drifted off into a restless sleep…

_Vast expanses of grassland lay before her. Lush green and yellow grass blew gently, easily, in the wind. Though the wind blew, she could not feel it across her skin. In fact, she felt nothing. Just emptiness. The feeling was not altogether unenjoyable, as it was a welcome relief from the outpouring of emotion she had been experiencing._

_She gazed out further and then noticed the grassland suddenly stopped short, dying and turning into a stone cold grey terrain, one devoid of the life and simplicity of the grassland. It was dark, and clouds hovered above it, casting shadows along what appeared to be ruins. Unlike the grasslands, this harsh terrain reminded her of the pain and suffering she had experienced throughout the years…even the years she could no longer remember._

_Birds chirped gaily in newly sprouted trees while the skeletons of Kath hounds adorned the rocks of the darker land. Blue sky covered the grasslands, but heavy, menacing clouds blanketed the sooty land. She didn't know why, but as she stared at the ruins, it reminded her of something—somewhere she had been, somewhere fraught with painful and pleasant memories. She didn't know why, but gazing at the ruins of some sort of enclave made her sad._

_"You know why."_

_The voice startled her, and Carina spun around to face a woman who looked oddly familiar. Her hair was a deep brown color and her eyes an enchanting green. She wore a genuine smile and her skin was a nice tan color. Her face was a mask of gentle lines, and even though the answer was quite simple, it took her a few moments to realize why this woman looked so familiar. This woman was her._

_"I imagine you're quite confused right now," the woman said, kindness in her eyes. "I can't blame you, especially after everything you—well, we—have been through."_

_"Who are you?" was the only question Carina could manage to utter._

_"Well, simply put, I'm you."_

_Carina stared at her in disbelief. "You're me?"_

_"Well, part of you anyway…or who you were," the brunette woman answered. "This must be all very confusing, so let me elaborate a bit: I'm the woman you once were before you fell and before you lost your memory…before you lost me."_

_"So," Carina drawled, trying to comprehend, "you're my past?"_

_"Yes!" she paused. "Well, sort of. I make up approximately half of your past…and I contain most of your memories. You know those flashes you kept having?"_

_Carina thought back. "The dreams?"_

_The woman nodded. "Yeah, those, well that was me—the past, or whatever it is you want to call it. In summary, those were your memories trying to resurface, trying to breach the mental block caused by the trauma of your act of redemption and the additional help of the Jedi Council…if you can even call that help."_

_"Oh, I get it," Carina said suddenly. "I'm dreaming."_

_"I hate your logic sometimes…or my logic…or…Force, this is awfully confusing," the Carina twin commented, admittedly befuddled. "Anyway, you're not dreaming."_

_"Then how do you explain all this?" Carina motioned out toward the surrounding environment._

_"It's a memory..." the woman answered. "And a fear."_

_"Stop speaking in riddles!" Carina shouted angrily._

_"Yes, leave the poor woman alone. Don't you see she doesn't feel like putting up with your goody-two-shoes routine?" a snide voice commented from behind Carina._

_Whirling around, she came face to face with another woman. This woman also looked unnervingly like herself, though her skin was a sickly pale color, her eyes a combination of reddish-gold with faint vestiges of green. Her hair had streaks of grey in it, though it was obvious she was not old but the same age as Carina. It was as if she was staring into the face of evil while looking at this woman._

_"Go away," the first twin commented, her features growing darker._

_"Why ever would I want to do that?" the second twin queried, raising a dark eyebrow. "It's about time she broke through that stupid mental block. Now she can reclaim our power."_

_"Power?" Carina piped in quietly._

_"Don't listen to her!" Carina's good twin shouted. "She speaks nothing but lies; she's deceptive!"_

_"Oh, such cruel, bold words from such a weak and pathetic memory," Carina's darker twin retorted. "It's her life; let her do with it what she wants. She shouldn't have to be controlled by anyone…not you, not me. Isn't that right, Carina?"_

_Carina's eyes flitted between the two women. It felt as if she could hear both their voices intermingling in her head and she couldn't shut them out. It was as if they were pouring years' worth of memories and knowledge back into her brain, and she didn't know if her head could take the pressure of it._

_"Stop it! Stop it right now!" the good one cried, making a step toward her._

_The dark one stepped away cautiously. "Oh, tsk tsk. You know what they say: anger leads to the dark side."_

_"I won't let you lead her—us—down that dark path again. You cost us everything!"_

_"I gave us power!"_

_"By sacrificing all we loved!"_

_"Sacrifices must be made for the greater good--"_

_"The greater good? Hah! Don't make me laugh. You hide behind your fallacies because you know what we became. What we got may have been power, but the cost was not worth it," the good twin told the darker one in a vehement but calm tone. "I won't let you help her make the same mistake again. You made us lose everything we ever wanted…"_

_The dark twin laughed callously._

_"Oh? Did I? And what did we want? We were shunned by the council, betrayed by our family, and our friends had abandoned us to our fate long before then. We were only good to them as long as we were useful…and when that use ran out? What were we then?"_

_"They were our friends!"_

_"They used us! They helped make us what we became…what we are now. It's their fault, so blame them." The dark twin sneered at the good one._

_The good twin shook her head. "I don't understand how you can be so callous!"_

_"And I don't understand how you can be so forgiving!"_

_"You're a witch!"_

_"And you're a weakling!"_

_"Both of you shut up!" Carina cried out at last. "That's enough! I don't know what's wrong with me, but I know that I'm dreaming so you can go ahead and wake me up now!"_

_The two women looked at Carina, one pitying her and the other amused._

_"You can't wake up," the good one told her in a soft voice._

_"What?"_

_"It's true," the dark one commented. "Until you sort out what you intend to do with us, you're not going anywhere."_

_Carina touched her forehead gently, trying to soothe her throbbing mind. This was all a bit much, even for her. If this wasn't a dream, what was it?_

_"Am I dead?" she asked._

_The dark one burst into laughter, but the good twin simply said, "No, though perhaps that'd be preferable to your current situation. Right now, you're in what we'd call a Force coma. Normally, these only occur when the Force user wills it, but in your case, it was to prevent you from going insane. You see, the good and evil--myself and that witch over there--were waging so furiously that it was beyond the ability of your physical mind to control us anymore. That's why you're here. To fix everything."_

_"So you're my memories, both of you, and who I was?" Carina asked, a realization dawning on her._

_"Technically."_

_"I see."_

_"I'm sorry about all this. It really is my fault," the light-haired woman said. "As my act of redemption, I will help you retain your memories and become the woman you were meant to be before we fell."_

_The dark one approached them then, hatred flashing in her eyes._

_"And you call me deceptive...hah! She wants to pressure you into a life of servitude for the very Republic which shunned you. She wants you to become allies with those who betrayed you…and for what? The misconception that they'd even accept you back? That's a joke. They hate you. They only keep you alive because they think they can use you. Nothing is going to set you free from yourself and your past until every last Jedi is dead. Only the dark side holds the key to what you need."_

_"She lies!"_

_"Do I? Let's see if I do. Perhaps Carina needs a little reminder of what was done to her," the dark one said, reaching out her hand and grabbing Carina around the neck, causing Carina's vision to blur._

_Her vision of the present was soon transformed into terrible memories, bad events of the past that Carina could not have anticipated. Horrible atrocities. Burning cities. Betrayal. Pain. Suffering. She screamed, and the vision broke just as the dark twin stepped back._

_"What have they done to me?" Carina cried, tears sliding down her pale face._

_The dark one smiled in reply._

_"Even memories can deceive you," the good one said wistfully, placing a delicate hand on Carina's shoulder. "But perhaps some light can be shed on these memories."_

_More memories flashed through her mind, and it felt as if she was there in every one of them again, reliving them. Wonderful moments. Warm summer days on Dantooine. Laughter. Family. Friends. Blue eyes._

_"Those blue eyes," she whispered, breaking the vision again. "I recognize those blue eyes."_

_The darker twin looked simply furious, but the lighter one smiled in delight._

_"You should. They belong to the man who loved you--who still loves you."_

_Carina froze. "Loved me?"_

_"Bah! Love is nothing but a lie that we tell ourselves so we keep on living. But power can give you the same amount of satisfaction, and there's no pain associated with it," the red-eyed woman interrupted._

_"Loved me?" Carina repeated, trying to wrap her mind around the concept._

_"Yes, he loves you still, too. Even after what we've done…even after everything. That's what love is…it's forgiving, if you let it," the green-eyed woman said. "It's what can truly heal you."_

_"I don't know…"_

_"You just have to believe it, Carina."_

_"I can't," Carina murmured. "After everything…I—I can't…"_

_"You can!"_

_"Leave her alone and let her choose her fate already," the darker twin grumbled._

_"I suppose she's right. I suppose arguing will get nothing done," the brunette-haired woman admitted. "The mental block has been broken, and your memories will begin to return to you in due time. However, your actions following this will determine who you return to being. Either you'll become me or you'll become her," she added with distaste._

_"I…understand," Carina said slowly._

_"Goodbye, good luck, and remember: the past cannot be changed, but the future is always in motion," the kind woman replied._

_Then everything faded to black again._

------------------

"Mical! I think she's waking up!" Igrayne cried, watching Carina intensely.

The blonde-haired doctor immediately sprang to his feet after having fallen asleep in the chair which he had been occupying. Concern lined his features as he approached Carina. However, this time when he looked at her, he noticed the spark of recognition flash in her deep emerald eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her.

"Better," she replied in a voice that sounded more confident than before.

Relief flooded the young doctor's face. "Good. I—_we_—were worried about you. You somehow slipped into a coma. Rani was the first to find you. I arrived shortly thereafter."

"Carina, do you remember how you slipped into the coma?" Igrayne queried from behind Mical, who continued to scribble down notes she knew meant nothing at all.

Carina paused. "I remember."

However, the extent of her memories was lost on both Igrayne and Rani.

"Then how did you slip into—"

"No," Carina interrupted, sitting up. "I _remember_."

"We heard you, Carina," Igrayne said.

"No, you don't understand! Igrayne, I _remember_ you!" Carina cried, her face erupting in happiness. "I remember you! And…and Bao-Dur. I remember Bao-Dur! I remember you and Bao-Dur! Oh, Igrayne!"

She launched at the woman, capturing her in a suffocating embrace. Both women then proceeded to burst into tears. Mical stood back and could not hide his shock. If she remembered Igrayne and Bao-Dur then how long would it be until she remembered him? Or did she already remember him?

"Carina!" Igrayne cried, tears streaming down her face as she realized her old friend was back. "When did it happen?"

"The memories?"

"Yes!"

"Well, it's a long story really…and I don't remember everything. But I remember enough for now," she replied, a genuine smile on her face. "I still can't remember everything about my past, and I'm still not sure about a lot of people. But, Igrayne, I remember you! I remember what great friends we were!"

Igrayne smiled through her tears and both women kept hugging each other as if they were sisters who hadn't seen one another for a very long time—which was true, in a sense.

"You're really back, then?"

"I think so, Igrayne." Carina grinned. "I think so."

----------------

"You guys hungry?" Rani asked, poking her head into the cockpit.

Han sat up suddenly from his slouch in the co-pilot's chair. There wasn't much to piloting when they were in hyperspace anyway.

"Why? Did you cook?" Indy asked warily, lifting her nose into the air and tentatively sniffing.

"No," Rani answered, slightly confused. "I just brought some food packets." She lifted her arms up a bit to show Han and Indy the refreshments she'd brought.

"Oh, in that case, hand the grub over!" Indy said enthusiastically, relieved that Rani hadn't tried to cook again. The last time Rani attempted cooking for her was on Telos, the food had ended up tasting "smoked"…and not in a good way.

Rani handed over the packets to the hungry pilots, wincing slightly.

"That looks like it hurts…" Han commented on Rani's burns.

"A little," Rani answered, drawing her hands to her face, partially to test for tenderness and partially to hide the streaks of blackened skin.

Indy stopped inhaling her food to stare at Rani's scorched skin. There were a few awkward moments as Rani fidgeted uncomfortably. Then Han kicked Indy solidly—but not painfully—in the shin.

"Is that…will that leave scars?" Indy asked, still thinking intensely.

"I…I don't know yet. Igrayne and Mical have been pretty busy..."

"Well, Evy and Mithic are both out of their kolto tanks now. Why don't you get something for the pain at least?" Indy advised.

"To tell you the truth," Rani started, throwing an embarrassed sidelong glance at Han, "I just haven't had the courage to ask Mical or Igrayne how bad it is…"

The gentle hum of the _Blade_ was the only distraction from the uncomfortable silence.

Indy cleared her throat as if coming to a decision. "Hey Rani, why don't you go rest for a bit? Han's not doing much," she said, glaring at Han comically. "He can make sure the rest of the crew is fed."

Rani stared blankly out of the viewport for a moment, running her fingers through the ends of her hair as she thought. "Thank you, Indy," she finally said, locking eyes with the archeologist before glancing at Han. "And you, too, Han."

"No problem, Rani," Indy said as the woman left the cockpit. Han merely grunted an incoherent response.

"Thanks for volunteering me for work," Han said sarcastically.

"It's the least you could do," Indy said disapprovingly while checking the engine readouts the computer was feeding to her.

"Since when did you start wanting to become such a benefit to our little society of fugitives?" Han said in a bored tone, ripping open a provisions packet.

"Not too long ago, I was considered a hero along with these people. Now we're all being accused of something we didn't do, and we're running and hiding for our lives. Like it or not, we're in this together."

"You know, kid, all of us traveling together isn't such a good idea."

"What do you mean?"

"We attract a lot of attention…"

"Yeah, well, we help each other a lot too."

"Listen, Indy. If we're really serious about staying under the Republic's radar, we would do a better job of it alone."

"Are you suggesting we ditch the others?!"

"Hey, hey, don't get all huffy on me, kid. I'm just saying…it could be like our old smuggling days." Han leaned back in his seat, tossing the food packet to the side.

Indy stared at Han with her mouth open. "I can't believe you, Han! Don't you have _any_ sense of loyalty?!"

"Look, I was just saying it could be like the good old days, when we weren't always running around trying to save the galaxy. Things were simpler back then," Han said, a wistful look in his eyes.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don't want things to be like the old days?"

Judging by the way Han looked at her, she could tell it hadn't.

"What was wrong with the old days?" Han asked, clearly hurt but putting up a good front to hide it.

Indy sighed, training her brown eyes back on the readouts in front of her. "Nothing. I just don't want it to be that way anymore…too much has changed."

Yes, too much had changed. Back in those days, Indy had never known what it had felt like to kiss Han or to have him inside of her. But now she had to be next to him every day, knowing how that felt, knowing that she wanted more, while Han seemingly desired to go back to their old relationship. They had kissed a couple times since she'd seen him again on Telos, but it seemed as if they were slipping back into hiding their feelings for one another, and Indy didn't like it at all.

"What's changed?" Han asked boldly.

Indy avoided the question. "These people are my friends now…"

"And what am I? Chopped Gizka?"

"You're my friend too, Han," Indy quickly answered, again not having the courage to lay it all out on the line.

"Is that what I am now…your _friend_?" The way Han framed the question was so accusatory, and it only served to make Indy angrier.

"Who's fault is that, Han?! You've been around for—"

"Hey! What's all the yelling about?" Trentyn asked as he strolled into the cockpit.

Both Han and Indy clammed up, looking away from each other and pretending as if they'd been busy with some task.

"Okay," Tren said, not oblivious to the friction heating up the area, "were you guys fighting about piloting duties?"

"No, Tren," Indy said with a sigh. "Everything's fine."

Trentyn didn't take his hint to leave, and he sauntered up to the back of her seat and put his hands on her shoulders. She would have brushed his hands away, but he started massaging her, and it felt too good to pass up. Instead, she leaned her head back, letting out a breath she felt she'd been holding in for ages.

"You're shoulders are all stiff, Rheya. Stressed out much?"

Indy tilted back her head to look up at Tren without turning around; he had always been able to read her moods when they had been together. It was one of the things she'd liked about him. She didn't have to bang her feelings over his head for him to notice them.

"That feels good," Indy moaned. "You always did give wonderful massages."

Indy could almost feel Han tense up at her comment. He had already been intensely watching Tren's hands on her.

Indy couldn't help but smile a bit. In her mind, Han deserved every bit of frustration she gave him, the dirty scoundrel! Even though closure had been sealed between Indy and her previous boyfriend, Tren, she wasn't above using him to get what she wanted, and what she wanted was Han.

-----------------

Trinn jerked her head up and opened her eyes. She was tired; there was no use denying it. She could not remember the last time she had been this tired. Her body was sore from her little freefall though the air when that bomb went off, and the scorch marks left on her arms and neck were beginning to throb. She would start to shut down mentally, and considering the particular situation she was in, she needed to stay alert and mentally stable.

She rose from her chair and stretched her arms up toward the ceiling. How long had she been sitting in that chair? It felt good to stretch. Her back let out a loud pop, followed by her arms and legs. She stretched her arms as far as they would go, her fingertips almost caressing the ceiling of the ship. In doing so, the shirt she was wearing rose up, revealing her scarred navel.

"I bet those hurt at one time," a voice remarked from somewhere to her left.

Trinn quickly lowered her arms and rested her hand on her blaster. Her eyes fell on a man sitting, sipping an ale. John Mithic. She had heard him walk in, even glanced in his direction. How could she have forgotten he was still here?

Not taking her hand from her blaster, she replied, "All flesh wounds hurt at one time or another. Mine are no different."

"Yeah, it is the emotional ones that refuse to heal or scar," he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

Trinn had no reply, but she did not release his gaze. He was bluffing, trying to get her to confess something in confidence to him. It would not work.

His gaze softened. "So, how did you come by those particular ones?" He nodded toward her midsection and took another sip of ale.

"They are my trophies from war. My personal reminder of all the hell I caused on Malachor." She let the words fall from her lips.

"Hmm." He nodded. "Do you mind if I asked you a question?"

He had changed subjects, and Trinn was having trouble keeping up mentally. He must have seen that she was exhausted. Trinn focused her thoughts and pushed her sleep deprivation to the side for a moment longer. "It all depends on how personal we're talkin'."

Mithic seemed to study her for a moment, his eyes moving over her. "Who is Jason?" he finally asked, returning his eyes to hers.

Trinn tried to mask her surprise. But she could feel her eyes widen. "How..."

"You were saying his name in your sleep a minute ago. I was just curious." He seemed to almost smile at her. "You don't have to answer me."

Now she was sleep talking? How much had she said? How much did this stranger know?

Trinn stood to her full height and cleared her throat. "That _is_ too personal, Captain."

"Maybe another day then," he replied, taking another sip of his ale.

Trinn smirked. "I doubt that." She said this with false confidence ringing in her tone. Then she turned and departed out of the main hold, not bothering to look back at the captain who remained seated with his ale.

----------------

When the joyful tears finally stopped, and Igrayne and Carina calmed down enough to stop hugging and laughing. The dark-haired Jedi held her friend's wrists in her hand, inspecting the wounds on Carina's arms. Carina, ashamed of her self-inflicted wounds, pulled away.

"It's nothing…it…it doesn't even hurt."

Igrayne raised an incredulous eyebrow at Carina. "Either way, we should put some salve on that."

The former nurse pushed Carina back onto the cot she had been occupying while she had been in her coma. Then Igrayne made a move toward the medical supply cabinet to retrieve the salve. Mical had already gotten it, and he held it out to her. Igrayne smiled and reached for the tube but then pulled back her hand and covered her mouth with it.

"Are you all right?" the doctor asked, concern narrowing his azure eyes.

Igrayne didn't answer for a few seconds, taking deep breaths from her nose as her hand stayed clamped over her mouth.

"Igrayne, how long have you been feeling like this?"

The woman seemed to get her nausea under control. "I don't ever remember getting this motion sick…"

"Maybe you have a virus," Mical surmised. "It's been a rough few weeks, and your immune system has taken a beating."

Igrayne nodded, still looking paler than normal, and then she covered her mouth again quickly.

"You should go to the 'fresher. When you feel a little better, come back and I'll do some blood work on you."

Igrayne nodded quickly again and then jogged out of the medbay, her hand still over her mouth.

Carina watched the scene with wide eyes. Now that she remembered Igrayne, she was not happy to see her friend in such a state.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Carina asked, her eyes still focused on the empty doorway Igrayne had disappeared behind.

Mical nodded, his words catching momentarily at the back of his throat as he realized he was alone with her. "I…yes. It is probably just a minor illness…"

"Good," Carina replied, and a bit of worry seemed to seep out of her eyes as they met Mical's.

The healer felt rooted to the spot, staring into her enchanting green eyes.

"Umm…are you gonna put that on for me?" she asked, breaking the spell on Mical.

Mical realized he still held the tube of salve in his hands. He forced a smile to calm the hammering of his heart and gently bent over her, uncapping the tube and squeezing out some of the clear, blue-tinted substance onto his fingers. Carina watched, her attention fully focused on Mical's hands. His attention was elsewhere as he stared into her face.

The doctor began to gently deposit the healing salve onto her cuts. Carina winced and made a "sss" sound with her tongue when he first touched her.

"It's all right. There is anesthetic in the salve, so the pain will numb."

Carina nodded and then swallowed heavily, her eyes wide and slightly watery as she watched him work. Looking at her like this, it was hard to believe she had once been a very powerful and very evil Sith lord. To him, she would always be the young padawan with big dreams and the stubborn streak that he had fallen so deeply in love with.

When he was finished applying the salve, he brought out some soft cloth to bandage her arms. Carina sat in silence as he wrapped her arm, as did Mical, but his mind was screaming questions, the loudest of which was, _Carina, do you remember me?_

When his task was finished, Mical busied himself with washing his hands and then putting away the medical supplies strewn around the medical bay. He did not know what to say to her. There were plenty of questions, but would he like her answers?

Once there was nothing else to do, the doctor faced Carina. She sat with her head bowed, her hands neatly in her lap. Mical thought she was crying.

"Carina?"

She looked up at him, and once again the emotion shining through her emerald eyes rooted Mical to the spot.

"You are free to leave now," he said, looking away, not able to stand her piercing gaze any longer.

"Can I stay in here? Just…for a little while?"

"Is there a problem?" Mical asked.

"I just…I'm not ready to face everyone else. I mean, I know of them, I know who they are, but I don't know _them_."

"You need some time to gather your thoughts?"

Carina smiled softly. "That's a good way to put it. I remember Igrayne…and Bao…and…Evy! Is she here?!"

Mical returned the slight smile. "She is, but I do believe she is resting. She was taken out of the kolto tank not but a few hours ago."

"Oh," Carina said, disappointment clear on her face.

"Well…do you remember…" _Me?_ "Rani?"

Carina pushed a few tendrils of hair away from her face, furrowing her brow. "It's strange, it's like I remember she was my friend and I cared about her. Like, I can remember how I felt about her, but I cannot remember anything about her."

Mical nodded. "Well, I promise you that pretty much everyone on this ship cares about you…you have nothing to fear from us."

"Thank you…for talking to me. I feel better," Carina said, standing up.

She must have stood up too quickly, however. She suddenly felt very lightheaded, and her legs felt like rubber. Mical noticed her loss of balance and was at her side in a flash, his arms tightly around her waist as he steadied her.

Carina put her hand up to her head, allowing her blood pressure to normalize. "I guess I'm not fully okay yet."

"You just need some rest," Mical managed to say. His heart was beating out of his chest as he held her to him. Her shirt had crept a bit up her back, and he could feel the softness of her warm skin on his hand.

"Thank you again," Carina said, looking up into his eyes and then looking away.

"It is my pleasure," he responded automatically. He couldn't bear to let her go quite yet, so he continued. "I am here for you if you ever need anything."

Carina pulled away almost painfully. "I think I should get some sleep. Any empty rooms where I won't cause a scene?"

"I believe Evy is sleeping by herself in the only dorm room on the starboard side. You could rest there," Mical said, reigning back in the control of his emotions.

Carina gifted Mical one more smile before walking out of the doorway. Once the image of her shiny brunette locks left his field of vision, Mical, frustrated, covered his face with his hands. Why hadn't he been able to ask her if she remembered _him_?

"And Mical?"

The doctor quickly pulled his hands away from his face, forcing them back to his sides as soon as he heard her voice again.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?"

"That I don't remember you."

------------------

Something about the captain had made Trinn anxious, and she was not the type of woman who got anxious easily. For the short time she had looked into his eyes, he had an unnervingly sharp gaze, almost as if he could see past all the barriers she had erected around herself. And his offhand mention of Jason, coupled with his direct manner, was a bit too much for Trinn to effectively dance around for long. Besides, she hadn't trapped herself on this ship to entertain the questions of a high and mighty Republic captain…

The statuesque woman walked slowly down the hallway of the ship, figuring she might as well try to familiarize herself with the layout of the _Centurion's Blade_. Ahead of her, she heard a man and a woman arguing. They weren't so much arguing as trading words, and they spoke with an intimate familiarity. Trinn was so enraptured by the discussion that she didn't notice the door to her right, and she slowly crept forward.

"Listen, kid, the _Blade_ is a beaut, but she ain't the fastest ship in the Outer Rim."

"Yes, she is! How many times has she gotten us away from trouble during our smuggling runs?"

Trinn moved a bit closer, peering into what she now saw was the cockpit. Since she was ducked down, she could only see the tops of the heads of the speakers from their seats in the pilot and co-pilot chairs. The woman was wearing a fedora. Trinn suddenly remembered their names from when Kavar had given her descriptions of the people they were searching for: Indy, whose real name was Rheya, and Han.

Suddenly, Trinn felt a tap on her shoulder. She would have jumped out of her skin with surprise, but her training gave her the capability to handle the situation with much less embarrassment. She straightened up from her hunched over, eavesdropping position and then turned to face the person who'd caught her. Her eyes met with the warm brown ones of Admiral Carth Onasi.

"I…didn't even hear you coming." Trinn tried to salvage her dignity with a tight smile.

"I guess that makes two of us with extensive Republic military training," he replied.

"How did you know?" Trinn asked, impressed at his insight.

"The way you move," Carth answered.

Trinn swallowed and then covered up her slight blushing with a forced cough. Indy and Han didn't even seem to notice their presence, but Carth motioned Trinn over to the door she hadn't noticed in the hallway the first time she walked through it.

"Let's just say once a soldier, always a soldier," the admiral added as he stopped by the doorway to the small communications console hold and leaned against it.

Trinn, at a temporary loss for words, stared past Carth into the room, her eyes sweeping the blue screens.

"And you detected that bomb, even when I couldn't. That's impressive," Carth Onasi continued, crossing his muscled arms over his chest.

"I had specialized training in the detection and disarming of explosives, sir," she added.

"You're still serving?" He asked, his eyes never once leaving her face.

"No, no. I left awhile ago, Admiral" Trinn answered, wondering why she suddenly felt ashamed of that fact when she never had before.

Carth must have picked up on it. "There's no need to address me so formally. You can call me Carth. Besides, I bet my title has already been stripped from me."

"You're one of their best. They'd be stupid to do that," Trinn replied vehemently.

"They believe that I'm an accessory to the bombings on Telos," Carth explained.

"You know there is something wrong with the Republic when they turn on their own," she said again with conviction.

Her light blue eyes met Carth's once more, but she quickly dropped them away, gazing back to her "safe" area inside the communications console.

"So…uh, I'm embarrassed to say it, but I don't know your name," Carth said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Trinn. Trinn DeRay," she replied a bit too quickly.

Carth didn't seem to mind as he extended his hand toward her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Trinn."

Strangely, Trinn found herself smiling ear to ear as she placed her hand into his for a handshake. Something about the way he said her name, with perfect pronunciation of every letter, made her feel giddy. It wasn't the lazy way that people usually said her name, but it was crisp…it was perfect.

"I'm Carth Onasi," he answered, returning her smile.

"I know," she replied, grinning even more.

"Oh…right," Carth said with a bit of a chuckle. The sound gave Trinn the desire to laugh right along with him, but she had enough control not to.

"So, have I met you before?"

"Well…not really," Trinn replied, the smile dropping off her face. "I mean, a lot of soldiers know who you are… I have seen you before; you just didn't see me."

"I don't understand."

"I was on Telos when the Sith bombarded the planet. A detachment of us elite soldiers had been sent down to help shuttle people off the planet. I saw so many frightened faces that day. We did what we could, but we couldn't get everyone cleared out of the sector before the bombardment started. Our shuttle was about to leave, but I saw a woman running out of a building. I told the shuttle to leave, that I'd catch another one, and hopped off to help the civilian. She…she had very long jet black hair pulled back into a braid."

Carth's jaw suddenly tensed.

Trinn continued. "I know she saw me through the dust… I can still remember her dark eyes and how she seemed a bit less frightened when she saw my uniform. I was running as fast as I could toward her. The sounds of the city crumbling around us were deafening, and I started coughing from all of the dust. Then the building next to her was directly hit. I lost sight of her as the rubble fell all around her, and I had to stop so I didn't get hit myself. When the air cleared, I saw you…holding her…I don't know how long you held your wife or how long I stood watching. But when you laid her down, I knew she was gone."

When Trinn finished telling her story, she looked at Carth and noticed his eyes shining in the dim light. She stood there, remembering the sorrow of those moments and remembering how in those moments, she had felt forged to this man in his grief. She knew how it felt to hold the person you loved most while their life slipped away.

"Thank you," Carth said, his voice a bit huskier than normal. "If it weren't for you, Rani, Tren, and I would be dead. I owe you my life."

As soon as the heavy words had left his mouth, the admiral stalked off, his mind so very far away…

-----------------

On her way back from the 'fresher, Igrayne remembered Mical's suggestion that she get some blood work done. She made her way along the cramped ship's passage, holding onto the wall to prevent her knees from buckling. Whoever had assumed the pilot's seat now was certainly taking it for one heck of a joyride.

_Atton_! Igrayne thought in mild annoyance. The scoundrel had always been a bit of a daredevil when it came to ships—especially fast ones.

She groped along the wall for support, headed toward the medbay. As she passed the main hold, Carth Onasi came stalking by and nearly rammed headlong into her.

"Oh," he said, sounding flustered. "Sorry, Igrayne; didn't see you there."

She watched after him as he continued on his way, obviously preoccupied with some other thought. Igrayne wondered what it was as she let her eyes drift after him, but she didn't give herself enough time to fret over it. Cyrus was, no doubt, in hot pursuit, so she needed to be tested now before the real chase began and the ship's operations became too frenzied to keep up with.

A hard shoulder broadsided her as she rounded the passage corner, and her hand instinctively flew to the shoulder with which the figure had collided. When she recovered slightly from the jarring blow, she was not surprised to see Dustil standing there in her line of passage. She was slightly annoyed that he had moved to intercept her on her way to the medbay, but she masked it with a look of boredom.

"What do you want?"

His dark brows knotted together, betraying a look of consternation.

"Nice to see you, too, Igrayne. Mical told me to remind you that you're needed in the medbay."

"I was already on my way there when you decided to show up." She tried to shoulder past him, but he merely stood rooted to the ground before her, enjoying the murderous glare she threw at him. "Would you mind moving?"

Dustil tapped his cheek.

"Not until you pay the toll."

"You want me to hit you?" she said sarcastically. Dustil merely grinned in response. She used both hands to push against his chest and managed to move him out of her path. As she stormed angrily toward the center of the ship, he trailed behind. Igrayne cast an irritated glance over her shoulder, by now too tired to keep up the impression of boredom.

"Don't you have anything better to do, like operate a gun turret or something?"

"Cute," Dustil guffawed. "It seems we're already full up in that area. Atton's got one of them covered, and I believe Mithic went to help out with the other turret. Just in case that Cyrus guy decides to show up again and make trouble."

"I don't think 'Cyrus guy' is a fitting nickname for a guy who could exterminate half the galaxy in one fell swoop."

"What would you rather me call him?" Dustil asked. "Darling Cyrus? Cyrus Sweetheart? Or maybe Cyrus the Terrible will do, since you said he's so powerful."

Igrayne rolled her eyes.

"Very funny, Dustil. You're a regular comedian. Here we are, running halfway around the galaxy to escape the most notorious bounty hunter, and all you can think of to do is make cracks? You know, I might cheer Jene Cyrus on if he decides to vaporize you first. I might actually _pay_ him to do it."

"Nice to know you care about me."

"Please. I've had enough of caring." She again tried to wedge her way past him. "If you'll excuse me, I have to be going. Mical's waiting for me."

Dustil stepped out of her way, but he wasn't about to be defeated that easily.

"That's right, go on. When things get tough, run away. Ladies and gentlemen, Igrayne flees once again! She must be hooked on speed-boosting stimulants, because I've never seen a woman move this quick to get away from me!"

Igrayne turned and narrowed her eyes dangerously at him.

"I'm just curious, is sarcasm your way of coping with all that the galaxy's thrown at you, or is it a product of remnant Sith teachings lingering somewhere within that thick skull of yours?"

Now it was Dustil's turn to narrow his eyes. For a moment, Igrayne was sorry she had said anything, as she watched the young man skulk over toward her with a look of pure rage in his eyes.

"I'm no longer one of them. But I guess you Jedi only see things in black and white, huh? Good, evil; Sith, Jedi. Everything's an absolute. No room for gray area."

"Well," Igrayne said, putting one hand on her hip to assume an overtly angry stance, "at least I'm not casual about the belief system to which I ascribe. At least the words 'it's all relative' don't direct my every misguided step."

"Want to say that again a little louder?" Dustil said, moving forward. Although his height alone was enough to overpower her, Igrayne was too angry to stand down and allow him the chance to win. With all that had happened in the past few days, her emotions had gone haywire. And now she felt fully at the liberty to unleash them on one who so obviously longed to be the brunt of such an outburst.

"Did I touch a nerve?" she asked, assessing his steely expression. "Why so defensive, Dustil, if you're 'no longer one of them'? There's no need to get all tense over it. It's obvious you aren't a Sith. Why, if you were a Sith, I wouldn't be able to call you an evil, murdering opportunist without you wanting to squeeze the life out of me. Now, would I?"

She threw him a challenging look and felt his hands tighten on her shoulders. She fully expected the consequences of what she had said to be unpleasant. But what she found instead was Dustil steadily veering closer, his breath hot on her neck just before his mouth frenziedly crushed down on hers. What surprised her even more was her own eager response to his kiss, as she parted her lips to allow him further exploration. Threading both hands through his hair, she felt the warmth of his body herding her up against the passage's wall as they continued to kiss and embrace. Meanwhile, the motors of the ship beneath them droned on.

-----------------

_The Black Sun_ was a powerful, effective, and well-armored machine, just like its master. His yellow eye glowed in the viridian light of the LEDs in the cockpit as he studied the erratic flight pattern of the _Centurion's Blade_ thus far. The sinews in his arm tightened as he reached up to rub his normal eye. The stims he'd taken on Kuat were beginning to wear off and the ache and exhaustion of combat began to sink into his corpus like a wasting disease.

Jene Cyrus could have backed off and taken refuge to get some much-needed rest. The group of runaways—led by the self-righteous, stripped admiral—would not be hard for him to find. He could have…but he didn't.

Instead, he stalked out of the cockpit, stepping over the battered, rust-colored droid he had carelessly tossed on the floor in his haste to follow the _Blade_, and made his way to the cramped but highly organized supply room. He thumbed the drawer, activating the opening mechanism, and took out three pre-filled syringes. One after the other, with a sort of controlled brutality, he stabbed the syringes into his arm, emptying their potent contents directly into his bloodstream. It was something he did day after day, sometimes for weeks at a time. He could run his body into destruction at that kind of pace, but he didn't fear death. Why should he? Often, Jene rarely felt alive anyway, and that was the way he preferred it. Machines didn't have regrets.

Cyrus was compelled to keep going. Not only did he feel the need to wipe the "smugness" off Carth Onasi's face, but he also wanted to know what the hell the Sith were up to and what it had to do with the ex-"Heroes" of the Republic. The mission had become personal now, and it was no longer a simple bounty. No, he wanted _her_, too, the one who reminded him so much of Jana before she'd been ripped away from him. Jene was sure she was on the _Blade_, but he didn't know how she'd gotten there. Had she fled from him in anger for what he did to the Jedi master? Had she been taken against her will? Either way, Jene wanted her. He wasn't sure for what, but he had bent the rules for her and he could not just let it be.

He stood there, motionless except for the slight rise and fall of his thorax, as the hormones and chemicals strengthened his body. Once he made it back to the cockpit, he went back to studying what he knew of the _Blade's_ path up to where he was now floating in space. The easiest thing to do would be to follow the traces of radiation of their engines to stay on their tail, but it was also the stupidest thing to do. Their path thus far had been erratic, and they had jumped in and out of hyperspace several times, interrupting their light speed to make pointless detours. They had attempted to be unpredictable, and they had tried to prevent him from following them. But a tight-lipped smile came to his lips as he realized where they were headed. Their path had been anomalous, but they were undoubtedly fleeing to Nar Shaddaa, the regular destination and hideout of the scum of the galaxy.

It was foolish of the admiral to go to that planet, of all places, but Cyrus could smell the reeking desperation of the crew of the _Centurion's Blade_. With rigid movements, he punched the coordinates to the planet in his navicomputer and then lurched into light speed. He would get to the Vertical City before they did, and he would wait for them there. He might even have time to repair the droid he'd obliterated while he waited.

-----------------

"Atton!" Indy yelled as he maneuvered the _Blade_ in a flip that made the whole ship lurch. Several cries of surprise came from the main hold. Even if the ship had just been fixed, Indy was not in the mood to test the limits.

"What in the seven hells of Corellia do you think you're _doing_?!"

Atton ignored her question and her wrath as he simply cast a lopsided grin her way and made the ship lurch again. Indy clutched the back of the pilot's seat and gritted her teeth while digging her nails into the soft leather of the chair. Han, who was sitting comfortably in the co-pilot's chair, sent Atton a warning glance, but if he saw it, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Get out!" Indy hollered near Atton's ear, making him jump out of his skin. Han took it as his cue to stabilize the ship so they didn't crash.

Atton leaped out of the chair as she continued to pelt him with several curse words that made both the scoundrels in the cockpit wince.

"I wont have you mucking about in _my_ ship, you worthless scrag-end!"

"Okay, okay! I get it!" Atton yelled back, and he started moving for the exit.

"I don't want you in the cockpit again unless it's an emergency!" she shouted while glancing around for something to throw. It was no use; everything was bolted down.

Giving an irritated huff, she turned toward the viewscreen and the stars, staying silent and wearing a look that was a mix between a frown and a pensive expression. Han looked up from his piloting duties and took in her appearance. Her fedora was slightly askew, and tendrils of hair had come out of the loose bun she'd put it in earlier that morning—or was it yesterday? He couldn't remember. She looked tired, and he had no doubt she felt tired, too.

Her eyes glanced at him for a few seconds, an eyebrow raised at his close scrutiny. She cocked her head slightly to the side, looking down at him in the chair, wondering what he was thinking.

"Anything you want?" she queried, her question punctuated by a small yawn she tried to quell.

"How about we hook up a power coupling?" Han suggested with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a sly grin.

She looked at him blankly. "What do you mean? Do we need to fix one?" She started bustling about, checking the screens for any problems, not noticing Han's sigh and look of resignation. She checked everything that came to mind, even flipping through the onboard cameras, finding nothing amiss.

"Everything seems to be in order," she said with authority, looking at Han with a frown.

"Forget it," Han muttered, turning toward the controls.

Indy looked at him in bewilderment and sat down in the pilot's chair herself, frowning down at the controls as she did a system diagnostic. She didn't have an idea what Han had been going on about. She tried to relax her face in an expression that wasn't a frown; she had been doing that too often lately.

She glanced at Han again, who was stubbornly looking down at his controls, and then looked to the left, her face away from Han. She thought for a moment, and then her expression turned into one of realization and her mouth elicited a silent 'oh.' She blushed furiously. Normally she wouldn't get like this over a comment like that, but she hadn't exactly understood it at first, and the last time she'd 'hooked up a power coupling,' it had been with the man next to her.

She put a hand in front of her face and her whole body began to shake. Han noticed and turned to her, looking startled.

"Indy! Indy, what is it!?" He sounded worried, and it only helped to fuel the laughter that was fighting to escape from Indy's pursed lips. She soon succumbed to it and erupted in a roaring laughter. Han donned a bewildered and confused look, which only made her laugh harder. She was sure the whole ship could hear it, but she didn't care.

"Han Solo, you idiot!" she managed to say through the violent laughing fit.

"What did I do?!" Han exclaimed, horrified.

"That was the worst pickup line _ever_," she said, wiping the tears from her face. "Seriously, you gotta do better than that!"

Han's expression melted into one of offense. "Oh, come on, it's better than some I've heard!"

Indy thumped the armrest with her fist as she tried to stop laughing.

"S-Sorry, I can't help it. It was just so…corny!"

She glanced at him while biting her knuckles in an attempt to quell the sudden outburst of laughter. It felt good to just laugh; it had been a long time since she could do that.

"Oh, so you want better?" Han exclaimed, a ghost of a smile over his face. She could clearly see he was trying to keep the offended look.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, her voice full of mirth.

---------------

Jene set the Black Sun down on an open landing pad in the refugee sector of Nar Shaddaa. It was the trashiest part of the trashiest planet in the galaxy, but Jene reveled in the urban filth. The whole placed reeked of blood and desperation, and he loved it. He could kill at will for almost no reason, and no one would think twice of it. Nar Shaddaa was the closest thing Jene had to a home, and his targets had flown right into it. He had all the connections and knew most of the terrain, and if he didn't know where he was it was easy enough to find out. Spread enough credits around and scatter a few blaster bolts and you could find out anything on Nar Shaddaa.

Right now, he didn't need a location; he needed a workshop. It just so happened that the landing pad he commandeered from an angry Toydarian (who became much more agreeable when he got a good look at the business end of Jene's pistols) was very close to the workshop of a blind Sullustan. The mechanic was probably one of the few inhabitants of the Smuggler's Moon who wasn't complete scum, a fact which made him few friends but got him many visitors—all looking for a five-finger discount. The creature had graciously allowed Jene to use his workshop, provided he put all the tools back.

After thanking him curtly, Jene left and then returned quickly with the body of HK-47, who had been deactivated following a very short shootout. Luckily, Jene had only damaged the droid's power supply, something he easily replaced with a few parts he had scrounged from his ship's storage locker. With the droid lying open on the table, Jene put his durasteel visor on and got to work with the droid's memory core. Instead of memory wiping the assassin—which wouldn't have worked anyway, given his numerous failsafes—he modified its programming to recognize Jene as his master. Jene did not consider the reprogramming to be theft. After all, the so-called "heroes" had no use for an assassin droid anyway, and they had abandoned him on Kuat. Jene would give HK-47 what he really wanted: ample opportunities to initiate assassin protocols and open fire. He was doing the droid a favor, really, by relieving him of the petty morality of his former owners.

It took several hours to wind his way through the droid's programming and change his memory core, but once he closed up the droid and activated its power supply, he was satisfied with the result.

"Statement: HK-47 is ready to serve, Master."

Jene smiled with the contented smile of an inventor who saw his newest creation finally work. He handed the droid his new weapon: the sun rifle. HK picked the gun up as if he had used it a million times, tested the scope, and aimed it at various objects while attempting to interface with the mechanics of the strange weapon. Without being told to, he switched its power all the way to red—one step away from black, which was overcharge mode—aimed through the tri-light scope, and fired a single shot at a small can of fuel up on the highest shelf across the workshop. The bolt of thermonuclear fire flew from the gun and lit up the fuel, causing it to explode and throw flaming globs everywhere. Without hesitation, he grabbed a primitive pressurized air/foam fire extinguisher, hooked it up to his left arm, and sprayed out the solution through one of his universal weapon adapters, engulfing the fireballs in foam. He put the extinguisher down, turned around toward Jene, and spoke again.

"Expectant query: Satisfied, Master?"

"Yes, HK-47, that will be all for now. Follow my lead; we have much ground to cover."

"Statement: Yes, Master." The droid paused for a second and then added, "Hopeful query: Will you need any meatbags eliminated along the way, Master?"

"That is the goal."

"Enthusiastic response: Excellent, master!"

With that, the two of them walked out of the workshop and into the shadowy gloom of the refugee sector.

The hunt had begun anew.

----------------

Even through the thick metal protective goggles Rani had over her eyes, she could see the bright flashes of light. There wasn't much pain with the laser skin treatment since Mical had been careful in applying anesthetic to the entire area he was treating. All she could feel was a bit of a prickle as the focused light of the laser ran over her blackened burns that marred her neck, face, and arms.

"There, you're all taken care of," Mical said in the satisfied tone of a doctor who'd just treated a patient successfully. He gently unclasped the goggles and removed them from Rani's eyes and helped her sit up on the medical cot. Normally, Rani would have felt quite exposed in the small tube shirt she had to wear for the procedure. The tops of her breasts were exposed since the burns had gotten as far as that. But around Mical, there wasn't much that could embarrass Rani. After all, he'd treated her through her miscarriage and had been a close friend since their time spent traveling together. And after Carina had "died," they had often mourned her loss together.

Mical raised an ungloved but sterilized hand to Rani's face, running his fingers softly over her burned skin, feeling for damage. "You'll be as good as new by tomorrow," he promised with a slight smile.

"Really?" Rani asked, her eyes brightening. She was as vain as any beautiful woman was, and the idea of permanently walking around with those horrendous burns had frightened Rani, but she just hadn't wanted to reveal that to everyone else.

"Yes, we treated it quickly enough, and your healed skin should regenerate very quickly now."

In a rush of relief, Rani jumped up and hugged Mical hard.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Mical smiled despite himself and put an arm around Rani.

"Anything for a friend."

With an appreciative giggle, Rani pulled away and tugged a more appropriate tunic over her head. Mical watched her, though his mind was somewhere else.

"Mical? Are you okay?" Rani asked, noticing his faraway gaze.

The blonde doctor cleared his throat and turned to the side to busy himself with tinkering with the laser machine. "Not really," he admitted after a long pause.

"It's about Carina... isn't it?"

Mical wasn't surprised that Rani had guessed what was on his mind so easily. After all, when had a part of his mind not been thinking about Carina? For almost as long as he could remember, she'd been the major figure in his life. Ever since the first time he laid his eyes on her as a young child padawan, he'd loved her. As they trained to be Jedi together, when they first kissed under the Tree of Dantooine, during their training missions as Padawans, after her ascent to Jedi Knight, during her botched mission when she had to kill her family, when she had come to him for comfort afterwards and they had made love...he loved her. Even when she'd disappeared after their night together and he hadn't seen her for several years, he had never been able to forget her. Then he'd run into her on Iridonia, and he'd allowed himself to desire her as a life mate. But even after she turned to the dark side, he had never given up his faith in his undying love for her. Even when he had thought she was dead for months, his heart never let go of her memory. Even after finding her in the arms of another man, his love refused to die. Carina had tested his devotion time after time, and despite himself, Mical could not change the fact that more than anything else in the galaxy, he wanted her.

"She'll come around. Se just needs time," Rani said.

"How do you know? How do you know she just won't turn to the dark side? Or join that bounty hunter Cyrus again?" Mical asked, his azure eyes burning with a frozen fire.

"We just have to have faith, Mical..."

"Faith? When has faith ever led me in the right direction? I followed blind faith and all I found was heartbreak."

Rani's eyes filled with sympathy, and Mical couldn't stand it. If only Rani knew what his desire for Carina had led him to do...

"We can't give up on her, Mical. Everyone deserves a second chance."

"I think Carina passed her second chance ages ago." He knew that it was a very callous comment, but he had become a bitter man.

Rani's sympathetic gaze didn't abate, and she looked as if she was at a loss of words, which surprised Mical. Never before had the woman not known what to say.

"She doesn't even remember us, Rani. She remembers Igrayne and Evy," he scoffed, "and probably even the admiral."

"At least she's making some progress. I bet it is only a matter of time before the rest of her memories return."

Mical suppressed a sarcastic laugh. Why should he believe that Carina would remember him? "How are you so optimistic all the time, Rani?"

"I think I would go insane if I didn't try to find the good in every situation," Rani explained.

The healer shrugged, not wanting to go down that train of thought. Instead, he turned back toward the counter and then remembered Igrayne had not yet come back from the 'fresher to get her blood work done.

"Have you seen Igrayne?" he asked.

"Umm…not in a bit. Why?"

"I need to do some blood work to find out if she has an infection," he answered.

"Don't worry, I'll find her for you and send her your way," Rani said, smiling politely and leaving.

Long after Rani left, her smiling face was still imprinted in Mical's mind. The innocent trust in her eyes, as well as the concern on her face for his wellbeing, almost sickened him.

"So this is what it feels like to be a betrayer," he whispered to himself. The verbal confession did nothing to ease his guilt. Never in a million years had he foreseen that this would happen, that he'd be again on the _Centurion's Blade_ with the others, fleeing their common enemies.

When Jana Lorso had approached him on Citadel Station months ago, he had no intention of feeding information to her about his friends. But then, the Czerka representative had said something that had shocked him to his very core. She had told him she knew Carina was alive. His initial response had been disbelief, but as he thought about it more and more, he realized he had always suspected she might still be alive. It seemed to be physically impossible for her to have survived, but the whispers of her faint presence in the Force had tortured him. Jana Lorso had offered Mical a deal he couldn't refuse: if he gave her information about Rani and the rest of his friends, she would bring Carina back to him. Of course, that had not happened. Jana Lorso had been murdered, but not before she had been able to get damaging information about his friends that was "leaked" to the Telosian press.

Mical knew that his secret of betrayal had died with Jana Lorso, but he also knew his conscience would never allow his anguish to end.

Rani glanced down at her wrist chrono, counting off the many hours they'd been in flight. Of course the trip was taking longer than it should have with all the evasive detours they took, but despite all that time on the ship, Rani hadn't gotten more than a passing moment with Carth. She allowed herself to pout about it for a few minutes while she searched for Igrayne, but once she got to the main hold, she reminded herself what a precarious situation they were in.

"Anyone seen Igrayne?" Rani asked John Mithic and Trinn, who sat on opposite sides of the room.

"Is she the big-busted Jedi?" Trinn questioned.

"Yes," Rani answered quickly, waiting for Trinn to tell her where Igrayne was.

"Haven't seen her," Trinn replied casually.

Rani rolled her eyes and then looked to Mithic, who shook his head no and then went back to arranging Pazaak cards on the table using only the Force. Despite her task, Rani took a few moments to watch his progress. She hadn't really ever realized the captain was a Force user, but now that she did, she wondered why she had never seen it before. It would be near impossible to have such vast and varied skills and not be Force-sensitive.

Continuing her search, Rani headed down another circular passage. She was in the habit of taking fairly fast strides, and because of this, she nearly ran into Igrayne and Dustil as she rounded the curve in the passageway. She was about to let out an obligatory apology for almost running into them, but the words never left her mouth. Instead, her jaw fell open.

Dustil and Igrayne were embracing…quite sensually. And by the looks of things, both of them were shoving their tongues quite forcefully into each other's mouths. Rani tried to pry her eyes away from the shocking and extremely private scene directly in front of her, but she couldn't do it. Her body was frozen in place. They didn't notice her at all, and Rani was so uncomfortably close to them she could almost feel the heat coming off their excited bodies.

Rani's first thought was, _What the hell?_ And her second thought was, _What about Bao?_

She did begin to get a hold of herself, however, and she tried to sneak away by stepping backward. Her feet were still heavy from the shock, however, and her step was much louder than she had anticipated. The "clang" sound was enough to break Dustil and Igrayne out of their suffocating hold on each other. Igrayne jumped away from Dustil, backing into the wall of the passage while Dustil jerked his head to look at Rani. The air was thick with a highly uncomfortable tension as both Igrayne and Dustil stared at their interrupter. Rani's eyes were locked on Igrayne's, silently asking questions about what she had just witnessed. As Igrayne's face turned redder and redder, this time from shame and not arousal, Rani took enough pity on her to break the silence.

"Mical says you are needed in the medbay."

Igrayne nodded in a bit of an overdone manner, tucking a few strands of mussed hair behind her ear. Rani stepped to the side of the passage, allowing Igrayne ample room to pass, which she did. Once the dark-haired Jedi left, Rani trained her eyes on Dustil, who immediately dropped his eyes to the floor.

"So, what was that all about?" Rani asked a bit bluntly.

Dustil felt his ears heating up with embarrassment. Of all the people on the ship, Rani was the last one he wanted to be caught by in such a situation.

"Is there something going on between you two?" Rani tried again, her eyebrows lowering and knotting together.

The young Onasi struggled to regain his composure. It was hard when Igrayne's heady scent was all over him…and the sweet taste of her was still lingering on his tongue. And then there Rani was, looking at him with an expression of obvious disapproval. A strange feeling of anger rose to meet the extreme shame he was already feeling.

"Do I have to explain everything to you or something?" he spat more forcefully than he intended to.

Rani took a step back, her face dropping the disapproval and sporting a sudden sadness instead. "I guess not."

Dustil immediately felt contrite; he never could bear Rani's sorrow. "Look, that's not what I meant," he began, taking a step forward and holding his hand out in a sign of apology.

"Oh, no, I think that is exactly what you meant. It's okay, I get the point, Dustil," Rani said, her large eyes narrowing and her bottom lip slightly jutting out almost in a pout.

"Listen to me. My words are getting all jumbled up, okay? I didn't mean it like that," he said, his voice taking on a softer tone.

Rani's expression didn't change. "Really, you're right; I don't need an explanation from you." Then she walked away.

Dustil didn't stop her. Too many conflicting emotions and thoughts ran through his mind. He was triumphant that he had been able to take such possession of Igrayne only moments before, but he was also disappointed he had rashly hurt Rani's feelings. It felt inappropriate to go after her and apologize like he wanted to, so he brushed the thought out of his mind. Rani was not a subject he liked to dwell on. It was much more pleasant to muse on the new developments between him and Igrayne.

--------------

"All right... I'll do better, kid," Han said, stepping up to the challenge.

"Let's hear it, Han," Indy replied, resting her elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand. She tried to push away her smile, but she was already laughing inside with the anticipation.

Her smile did disappear however, when Han's hazel eyes stared intensely into her own eyes. He leaned forward in his seat, and his face was so close to hers that the tip of his nose was almost touching hers. He sat like that for a few heavy moments as Indy sat completely still, not able to look away from his eyes. Finally, he took a breath in and opened his mouth.

"Baby, you put my body into carbon freeze every time you're near me."

Indy couldn't restrain the hale of laughter that came straight from her belly, forced itself up her throat, and then burst forth from her mouth like a violent volcano. Han's face immediately put on his offended look, and it didn't help any that when Indy had first laughed, she'd launched a spray of saliva into the air that unfortunately rained down on Han's face. As he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe off his face, the action fueled Indy's laughter.

"Hey! That's a good one!" Han defended.

Indy's laughing punctuated her reply. "You can't be serious! Like _that_ line has ever worked!"

"It has!"

"Oh, yeah, when?" Indy asked.

Han paused as if in thought and then continued. "Well, I can't think of a specific time right now, kid."

Indy continued her raucous laughter, snorting a few times because of her shortness of breath. "That line was as bad as 'from the first time I saw you, I've been stuck in your tractor beam'!"

"Hey, that's a classic!"

"Wow, and I didn't think it could get any worse from that power coupling one..."

Now Han looked like he was trying to prove something. "Oh, yeah? If you think my ship is big, you should see my _other_ equipment."

Indy covered her mouth to try to stifle her continued laughter, and Han's eyes darkened in a comical anger.

"I think maybe you should slow down there, Han. You're moving faster than a podracer!"

"Well, maybe I'd like to ride my speeder over your sand dunes!" Han shot back. This time he broke his mask of anger and offense with a crack of a smile.

Indy ceased her laughter for a moment and bit her lip, enjoying their little game. "Why? You don't want to fly _Solo_ tonight!?"

As Indy chuckled at her own cleverness, Han sported his crooked smile, which silenced Indy. When he had that look on his face, he was getting ready to be very satisfied with himself. Han then put each of his hands on Indy's upper arms, pulling her to him slightly. Her head was tilted back a bit, giving Han ample access to her lips should he want to take advantage of it.

"I got one more," he whispered, mischievousness glinting in his gaze.

Indy cocked her head to the side. "Okay," she said, whispering also.

"Is your father a space pirate? Because he took all of the stars in the galaxy and put them in your eyes…"

Indy let out an exhale of sparkling laughter, realizing that Han wasn't even trying to impress her anymore. It was a bit touching to see he would take a hit to his expansive ego just to hear her laugh.

"Can you do any better?" he asked, his hands still holding on to her arms. He had a strange look on his face, as if he was committing her happy face to his memory.

Indy grinned, leaning forward a bit toward Han. "Sure I can."

He leaned even closer to her, breaking the invisible barrier between them. "I'm waiting…"

"Why don't you come back to my place so I can show you some tricks with the Force?" Indy knew it was a lame pick-up line even before she said it, but somehow with Han's proximity and her own richly throaty voice, it came out as seductive.

One of Han's hands traveled from its resting place on her arm, over her shoulder, and then to the sensitive and naked parts of her neck. Indy, in a strange bout of shyness, tilted her head down so that the brim of her fedora helped to hide her eyes. As he continued to run his one hand over her neck and exposed clavicle, he moved his other hand to her chin, where he tipped it up to force her to look into his eyes. She obliged, very much feeling like she was caught in a tractor beam. He moved his face closer and closer to her, his lips slowly moving toward their goal.

A million thoughts ran through Indy's mind at that moment, and for all she tried, she couldn't find one reason not to let Han kiss her. His fingers worked gently on her neck, sending tantalizing tingles down her erect spine. He finally kissed her. Once his lips touched hers, Indy lost all perception of location and time. The only thing that existed was their lips, and then her frame of consciousness expanded to include their tongues and bodies. Although both of their hands had been quite busy, Indy ached for more. Han must have felt the same, because he lifted her out of the pilot's seat into his lap, her legs straddling him. Not once did their hungry mouths part from each other. Han's fingers nimbly worked on the buttons on Indy's white blouse as Indy lifted the bottom of his shirt to run her hands across his abs. The ship tossed around, but all Indy felt from the violent movement was Han's manhood rocking across her own sensitive parts as he held her down on his lap.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

Indy heard the masculine voice, but it sounded far away and muffled, as if she was underwater. She would not have broken the embrace if Han hadn't, but he did, and it shocked Indy back into reality. It was almost painful to go from the complete bliss of being lost in Han's kisses to becoming aware that her shirt was hanging open, her fedora had somehow hung itself on a wire near the ceiling, and Atton was sitting in the pilot's seat beside her, getting the ship back in control from a spin-out.

She fumbled to button up her shirt as Atton struggled with the controls. Normally she would have shooed him out of the cockpit, but her utter shame and embarrassment at the situation had her ceding control to the scoundrel. Han was actually leaning forward and taking the copilot's controls too, as he struggled to see past Indy, who was still perched on his lap. It didn't take long for the scoundrels to get the ship back in control and on course, which would have normally impressed Indy if she wasn't so embarrassed.

Once the hum of the engines returned to a comforting purr, Atton stared into the starry sky for a few moments, probably to give Indy the time she needed to make herself presentable. She took her cue, finished buttoning up her white shirt, and ineffectively smoothed her hair back, trying to push the escaped tendrils back into her ponytail before realizing she was still on Han's lap and finally hopping off. She tried to control it, but her face turned an impressive shade of red.

"Uh…thanks, Atton. I'll pilot the ship now," Indy managed to stutter, not meeting Atton's eyes.

"I think it's time for a shift change," Atton replied, the corners of his mouth rising.

"I'm fine. I'll pilot my own ship, thank you very much," Indy replied indignantly, trying to cover up her shame.

"I don't think so, woman! You do realize the _Blade_ was completely out of control…just like her captain," Atton said, not able to resist the jibe.

"Atton, I'm certainly not going to leave you to pilot _my_ ship!"

"Oh, come on, Indy, look at is as an opportunity to allow you and Han to finally _blow_ off some of that sexual steam."

Indy's answer was an incredulous strangled sound from the base of her throat.

Han cleared his throat. "I could use a little nap."

Indy glared at Han, knowing what his train of thought was, and no matter how tempting it sounded, she was not going to leave control of her ship to Atton. The man got a little crazy at the head of a ship, and letting him take over would be like letting him win.

"I'll even add in some pleasant shifting to make your _ride_ more enjoyable," Atton said, his face practically glowing with all the fun he was having.

That was the breaking point for Indy. "Both of you, out, now!"

Han shrugged and stood up, but Atton stubbornly stayed at his place in the pilot's seat.

"Seriously, if you won't let me help you pilot, you should let someone else," Atton said logically. "You've been awake for hours."

"Fine, send Carth in here," Indy replied.

"He's busy communicating with the Jedi and figuring out where we can stay on Nar Shaddaa," Atton answered.

Indy sighed. "What about Tren?"

"Not Tren," Han spoke up with a look of disapproval.

Indy raised her eyebrow in surprise, but then she remembered that Han never really did get around to trusting her ex. Too tired to argue with Han, she made another suggestion. "Is Mithic available then?"

"If building houses out of Pazaak cards with the Force is considered available, then yes," Atton answered.

"Good, then get out of my seat and go get him," Indy demanded, pretty much pushing the scoundrel from the pilot's chair.

"You go get him!" Atton said petulantly.

"I'll go get him," Han said with a sigh, watching Indy plunk back into her seat and Atton warily take the co-pilot's seat until Mithic arrived.

Indy nodded, not looking at him, and began another diagnostic on the ship to make sure no damage was done.

Han smiled, leaning over the seat and whispering in her ear, "Loving you makes the Da-go-bah."

Then he walked out, leaving a smiling Indy to her work.

---------------

As Evy's dream progressed, she happily rolled around in a soft, expansive bed with Atton. At least in dreams no one could interrupt the carnal pleasures she shared with the man she loved.

The ship rocked around, waking her momentarily as her body violently crashed against the wall beside her bed. She easily slipped back into a doze, hoping she would be able to continue the wonderfully pleasant dream she'd been having. At first, Evy had thought she had succeeded, as Atton's handsome face swam into her mind's eye. But instead of his characteristic "love" face, he looked angry. His jaw was clenched, the muscles undulating as his jaw showed the effort of him trying to control his emotions. As Evy realized that this was no dream, but a Force vision, she paid more attention, trying to make out Atton's angry yet hushed words. All she could make out was that he was referring to Trentyn before the scene in front of her changed. This time, she saw a huge force of ships that looked to be Sith. In addition, they had strange shields around each ship that glowed a bright, fiery red. The scene shifted again, this time focusing in on an intensely green eye and then widening out to show the owner of the eye. It was Carina, her face shadowed with anger, her fingers twitching slightly as if itching for her lightsaber.

Evy felt another lurch of the ship and was thrown clear out of her bed, where she landed just inches from a footlocker. She rubbed her eyes, wondering what was going on as she was sent flying again. This time her body was thrown up into the air, and the nurse braced herself for impact with the ceiling, but the blow never occurred. Instead, her body rose in the air for a few moments, accompanied by a feeling of weightlessness, and then she was finally tossed back onto her bed.

Although the ship bucked and rocked for a bit longer, the path of the ship eventually smoothed out and Evy was able to calm her quickly beating heart. She looked down at herself, surprised to find she was in pretty good condition. She surmised that all that time spent in the icky kolto tank had helped tremendously, but it did leave her with a slightly bitter smell since he hadn't gotten a chance to shower.

She stood up, stretching out her limbs that were sore from misuse, before deciding she'd leave the dissecting of her Force visions to when she was in the shower. She always did think better in there anyway. She opened a locker in the room, pulling out a pair of soft yet sturdy grey pants and a stretchy, long-sleeved pale green tunic. She gathered the clothes in her hands and then turned toward the door, when she promptly dropped them.

Sleeping soundly and heavily on a bed in the dorm was Carina. Evy shook her head, her golden hair—stiffened from the kolto—slapping her arms. _Am I still dreaming?_

The last she had heard, Carina had died on Malachor, but now she was sleeping on the _Centurion's Blade_? Evy stepped a little closer, studying Carina's features. She looked completely as she did before she had turned to the dark side, if not a bit more tired, which was very comforting. Before Evy could try to wake up her old friend, Tren came walking into the dorm, the door sliding open to announce his presence.

"Nice to see you awake…and scantily dressed, kitten," Tren said, immediately stepping back to admire her.

Evy ignored his comment, bending to pick up her fallen clothes. "So, did we swing by Malachor while I was sleeping?"

Tren looked confused at first, but then he glanced down at Carina's sleeping form after Evy jerked her head in that direction. "Oh…yeah…long story."

"Well, shorten it for me, Tren."

"Why? Afraid you'll get hurt with the _long_ one?" Tren teased.

Evy scoffed but made no indication she would continue on with the flirting.

"Oh, all right, we kinda kidnapped her from that crazy guy, Jene Cyrus, on Kuat, which she wasn't very happy about. But then she must have had some sort of revelation during her jail time in the cargo hold, because she came out remembering Igrayne, Bao-Dur, and even you."

"Wait a minute, back up there. Why is no one surprised she is alive?" Evy asked, trying to process the influx of information.

"We were surprised when we first saw her on Citadel Station, but we were so busy outrunning the TSF and everyone else who was after us that we never got around to discussing it. Apparently she was with the Jedi for a while. They found her on Malachor, still alive."

Evy nodded, rubbing her head in an effort to stave off the ache that had sprouted there. "I guess there is a lot for me to catch up on, but first, I need a shower."

"Hold on, kitten," Tren said, gently grabbing hold of her arm.

"What is it?" Evy said impatiently. She was very much looking forward to not smelling like old kolto.

"You have pretty eyes."

Evy furrowed her brow. "That's all what you wanted to tell me?"

"Actually, no," Tren admitted. "I just wanted to let you know it's probably not a good idea for us to mention to Atton that you…uh…that you healed me."

"Why would that be a problem?" Evy asked, without thinking about it. Tren went silent, uncharacteristically appearing to be slightly worried as she stared at his feet.

"Oh…" Evy said with sudden understanding. She immediately felt awkward. How had she been able to heal Trentyn's wound? The blaster shot to his chest should have been fatal. The only other person she had been able to heal like that was Atton, and that was because she loved him.

"Yeah, we should be getting to Nar Shaddaa soon, so enjoy your shower, because I'll certainly enjoy imagining you in there." Tren winked, back to his self-assured, Casanova self, and then left Evy to her thoughts.

---------------

"Look, I appreciate the fact that you're helping us, but don't you think you can discuss things a little faster?" Carth growled at the hologram in front of him. Vrook and his other counterparts, Vandar and Zhar, were conferring in the Jedi Council chamber and transmitting images back to the _Blade_ while they discussed the best course of action for the heroes of the Republic to take. Carth, on the other hand, was pacing the cramped ship's quarters and feeling more than a little stir crazy.

"Admiral Onasi, you may be master of your ship, but things work differently here. There are rules to be followed, actions that must be taken…"

"…Strings to be pulled. Yeah, yeah, I get the point. And I'm appreciative of all that you've done for us so far, Master Vrook," Carth said, and he could barely contain the blatant contempt that saturated his tone, "but we're kind of in a bind here. We don't have time to sit around and wait for you to iron out all the details. I don't know if you've noticed, but we've kind of got a psychotic assassin on our tail. Right now, I'm just trying to save our skins."

The Twi'lek Zhar's fleshy lekku turned a bright shade of red slightly more colorful than the one he wore on his face. He moved sluggishly in the hologram, and his deep voice resonated with fierce—but controlled—anger. "This is just the type of behavior to be expected from one such as you, Admiral."

"What the—?" Carth's brows knitted together in annoyance. "Look, buddy, don't you get smart with me."

"Admiral, please," Vrook interrupted. "We're doing all that we can. Patience is a virtue."

"Patience? Sorry, but it seems to be in short supply at the moment. I'll be patient when both my feet are on the ground and we aren't being chased by a madman!"

"Well then you should rest easier knowing Bastila is in contact with a reliable individual who just might grant you the use of his safe house in the refugee sector."

"Right, _reliable_," the soldier replied with a grunt. The last time he'd heard a person described as reliable was with his old mentor, Saul Karath, and that situation hadn't exactly panned out the way he wanted it to…

At that moment, Bastila appeared to disrupt his reverie. Though the hologram image was shaky at best, he could still make out the signature pigtails pulled taught around the rosy red face of the young woman. Carth smiled in greeting.

"Bastila. Finally things are looking up!"

"I am glad to see you are well, too, Carth," the young woman said diplomatically.

"Well?" Vrook demanded.

"Geriel has agreed to harbor them for the time being. He said to send them over immediately; he is making preparations as we speak. It will be dangerous, no doubt, and the risk is far too great should they venture out of the safe house. There's no telling what kind of thugs this Cyrus person—or the Exchange for that matter—will send after them should they learn of their whereabouts."

"Excellent." Vrook directed his attention to Carth, who couldn't contain his exuberance. "There, you see, Admiral? It seems your fears were misplaced."

"Right. Gamorrean thugs, assassin droids, bounty hunters, and the Exchange. What could be better? It seems like we're jumping from the frying pan into the fire," he said with a hint of irony in his voice. It was difficult to mask his annoyance with the Jedi master, but he tried to put on an air of gratefulness if only for the amount of trouble Vrook had gone through to arrange this. Carth adopted a less formal stance and chafed a hand through his week-old whiskers. With all the excitement, he hadn't had time to shave, much less go for a dip in the 'fresher. He made a mental note of this as being something he would have to remedy as soon as they touched down on the Smuggler's Moon.

"Carth, please," Bastila chastised him.

"Right, sorry. I'm just tired; it's been a long journey and I'm looking forward to setting down planet side. I will go tell the others; Bastila, you transmit me Geriel's coordinates. I will make contact with you again very soon."

"Very good, Carth," Vrook spoke up. "May the Force be with you."

As the hologram flickered and faded, revealing the sterile, cold bulkhead in the background, Carth took it as his cue to tread down the short stairwell into the main hold, where most of the crew was assembled. At the sight of the admiral, most of them stood at attention.

"At ease," Carth commanded, noticing Trinn's shoulders slump dramatically. He couldn't tell if she was mocking him or actually obeying orders. "Where are the others?"

"I was asking myself the same question. Do you want me to get them?"

"No, that's all right. Don't trouble yourself." As he said this, he tapped her hand slightly and with hesitance. Then he went to seek out the others in the cockpit and relay to them the information Bastila had given him.

------------------

Igrayne entered the medbay with trepidation, wondering how long Rani had observed her and Dustil sharing their passionate embrace. Her whole body was trembling with the heavy pulsing of her heartbeat, which had been irregular ever since Dustil had intercepted her on her way to the medbay. Now that Rani had witnessed and seemingly questioned her as to her complicated relationship with the young man, she felt as though she would be sick again. She couldn't bear the thought of her friend forming an unfavorable opinion of her.

Igrayne was to the door of the medbay when her hands clutched the door frame for support and she felt her knees slacken. Mical, who was busy making notations on a small clipboard when she entered, rushed immediately to her side to steady her.

"Igrayne!" he said, using the strength in his arm to brace her and escort her over to the small cot in the far corner of the room. As soon as she sat down, she felt her gag reflexes begin to work overtime. When the wave of nausea had passed, she said, "I am fine. I'm just a bit queasy. Whoever's flying that plane took us into a nosedive for a moment there."

Mical went through an assortment of serums and vaccinations in the small wall cupboard and began selecting a few of these, as well as sterile medical instruments with which to perform an injection should the need arise. If she had an infection—or a virus—it needed to be treated immediately. Her immune system had probably taken a beating due to the strain she had been put under from constantly about.

"Yes, I shall have to speak to Atton later. It seems our resident flying ace is enjoying himself up there."

Igrayne's eyes creased with laughter when she realized he was trying to relax her.

"Mical, I don't think I've heard you crack a joke in…well…_ever_!"

He handed her a small cup and began by asking her for a urine sample. Retreating to the small 'fresher, Igrayne emerged a moment later and handed him the cup. Then Mical smiled and held her arm out, sterilizing the tender part of her inner elbow. Igrayne smiled and studied the man's face as he attempted to get a vein. He didn't have to try too hard. In all of the battles she had fought, none of the wounds she'd sustained ever compared to this kind of pain. Fighting a fear of looking babyish, Igrayne bit her lip and tried to stifle her discomfort as Mical hit a vein and extracted a pint of blood. The grimace plastered on her face quickly turned into a faux smile. The wave of nausea returned, this time more aggressive than before.

"Damn, that hurts."

"It will pass. Look at me," the young doctor said, staring intently into her eyes. "I need to be sure the color comes back into your face before releasing you."

When Mical released his hold on her, allowing Igrayne the chance to sidle past the small cot and walk across the room to stretch her limbs, the young woman said sarcastically, "So, any forms I have to sign or anything?"

"No, you are free to go. It should take a few moments to process your results. You can wait, if you wish."

"Yeah, why not?" Igrayne said, slipping into a seat beside the doctor as he worked. She studied the quick, practiced movements of his hands and the efficiency with which he worked. It was so easy to overlook Mical's contribution to the ship's crew when they were on the run and regularly dependent on weapons and artillery, but she suddenly realized that many of them would be dead or badly wounded without his skills. "You do this a lot? Where'd you learn your medical skills?"

"During my training as a Jedi I took some classes in the medical arts. I probably would not have pursued a career as a doctor had I not left the Order…"

"Why did you?"

She noticed a little fumble in the otherwise perfect movements of Mical's hands, easily overlooked by one who wasn't watching closely. But she was, and this action stood out as singularly meaningful to her.

"Mical, I know you are upset about Carina. Believe me. I understand what it feels like."

"How could you possibly? You have Bao-Dur."

She smiled in response, but it was merely a practiced response—much like what Mical was doing now in keeping up appearances.

"Are my results almost ready?" she queried.

"It should be a few moments longer."

"All right. You don't think I'm dying, do you?"

Mical snorted. "Force, no. Igrayne, put your mind at ease. Do not always assume the worst."

"I guess I'm just so used to doing that lately…"

"I understand what you mean."

Igrayne felt an outpouring of pity for Mical, for that part of him which was still clinging to a false hope that Carina might recognize and one day love him again. It was a vain hope, even she could realize this, and the fact that Mical seemed to be ignorant of it only compounded the sorrow in her heart.

She reached out a hand and laid it on the groove in Mical's shoulder as a comforting gesture. The doctor seemed flustered by the awkwardness of the touch and made no response.

"Mical, you love her. Even I can see that. But you can't keep following a dream."

Mical gathered up the instruments he had emptied from the cabinet and set about replacing them in their proper spot. As he worked, his voice trailed over his shoulder. "You are right, Igrayne. I no longer believe that I am any part of her life, and I have accepted that. I have made peace with it at last."

"I'm not sure I want to believe you," she replied, "though it's probably the best thing to do, all things considered."

"Yes. I have given it thought and decided it is what I must do."

Igrayne felt at a loss for words, so she merely allowed her hands to fidget mercilessly behind her back as she waited for the results of the blood work and the urine sample to be developed. It seemed like she had been pacing forever when Mical walked over to a small table and made a few notations. As he scanned his notes, his brow seemed to be permanently creased. Igrayne felt her throat tighten as if an invisible hand clamped over her air supply.

"Well? Results?"

"Yes," he said, standing to deliver the news. Igrayne knew at once it couldn't be good. He approached her, still staring at his notes. "Igrayne, you are not dying at all. You are pregnant. Your symptoms all seem to confirm this—the queasiness, the faintness, the headaches…"

"What?" she barked. "That's impossible. That's…" Saying it out loud seemed to cement Mical's words in her mind, and it no longer seemed quite so impossible after all. It seemed like ages since she had last been with Bao-Dur, and the distance between them had grown increasingly far given his recent iciness toward her, which was compounded by Dustil. Day by day, she had allowed their Force bond to die a little more, and now it was as though a shock of electricity pumped into her body, alerting her to her own carelessness. She had allowed them to fall so far apart that she barely knew him—and, what was worse, she barely knew herself.

"Igrayne, listen to me. Have you come into…intimate contact with Bao in the last few weeks or months?"

She blushed furiously. "Mical, that is a personal question."

"But a necessary one," Mical said, and she could definitely detect a hint of authority in his voice as he shrugged off his relationship to her as a friend and assumed the more fitting role of doctor.

"Yes, if you must know," she said, noting the heavy shaking of his wrist as he made a notation on the clipboard. "Wait…don't write that!"

"Igrayne, if I am going to be treating you throughout your pregnancy, I must keep more comprehensive charts. Do not fear; whatever you tell me is confidential."

"_Throughout my pregnancy_?" she echoed, realization beginning to sink in. "No, Mical."

Mical took her hand in his and held it gently to calm her.

"Igrayne, it is all right."

"I just…I just need time to think. Please leave me alone," she said, bolting from the medbay as fast as her feet would carry her to seek out an empty dormitory in which to cry.

----------------

"Hey, handsome," Rani's voice purred. She had heard Carth's lopsided gait betray him moments before he entered the cargo hold. After discovering his son with Igrayne in a compromising position, she had entered the tight quarters to be alone with her thoughts for a moment. Naturally, her thoughts focused on Carth and how he would react to this new development. He and his son had a relationship plagued by many difficulties, and they had only recently seemed to come to some sort of truce, but it was fragile at best. She knew that any sudden thing might upset it, and then they would be back to square one—fighting all the time.

"I've been looking all over for you," Carth said, sounding slightly out of breath. "We're going to be landing in Nar Shaddaa soon. Bastila arranged for some guy named Geriel to house us in the refugee sector."

"The refugee sector? You don't suppose they have a convenient shopping district nearby, do you?" Rani said, trying to lighten the mood. She was rewarded when she saw the stern lines of Carth's face dissolve into a soft, dimpled smile.

"You know, gorgeous, I know you've been melancholy ever since leaving your wardrobe behind on Telos, but now is not the time for shopping. Soon, though, I promise. I want to give you a reason to buy a new dress."

"What?"

Carth smiled cryptically, but didn't elaborate. "Nothing. You all ready for a landing?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Then you might want to get up front in the main hold with the others. We're going to meet briefly and discuss our plan of action once we land on Nar Shaddaa."

"I think that's a good idea; Cyrus is a very real and dangerous threat," she said. "It's going to take a little more than superior firepower to evade him."

"Speaking of evasive, you haven't really been accessible lately, have you?"

"What do you mean, Carth?"

"I combed half the ship looking for you earlier today. Want to tell me what you were doing?"

Rani quickly recounted her visit with Mical, conveniently leaving out all details of Igrayne and Dustil, up until her current stakeout in the cargo hold. Though she felt guilty for lying to him, she wasn't entirely sure the truth was preferable to this. What he needed to hear right now were kind words and assurance, so she gave him just that.

"Don't worry, Carth. The Jedi Council seems to know what they are doing. We will be safe with Geriel, I'm sure."

"For the time being. However long that lasts," he said, his words a grim reminder of the very real danger they were all about to face. Steeling herself against these unpleasant thoughts, Rani accepted the gallant arm Carth extended to her and walked side by side with him into the main hold, where most of the remaining crew members were gathered—all but for Bao, Indy, Igrayne, and Han. Their notable absence didn't seem to bother the handsome admiral very much, though.

"All right, listen up," Carth said, projecting his voice loud over the endless drone of the ship's engines.

---------------

Jana Lorso's old Nar Shaddaa haunt smelled like dry bantha dung, and Saquesh wasn't altogether too fond of the smell, though he tolerated it for the time being. In the days after Lorso's death, news of which had quickly spread over his network of informants, a number of local crime bosses all sought to claim her legacy as Czerka Corporation's most ruthless mistress yet. As allies of the notorious crime syndicate, Saquesh had put down a number of their rebellions and, in so doing, won himself a few friends here and there, gaining the Exchange boss clout among Czerka's lackeys. A few handouts and payoffs later, and he found himself in charge of Lorso's remaining staff—those who weren't busy vying for control of Czerka. Now he was enjoying the full extent of that power by using Czerka's former lackeys to make his own pocket richer and capitalize on bounties.

One such bounty remained; one which Saquesh was eager to collect on. The Exchange offered a large sum on each of the heads of the heroes of the Republic, branding them as traitors who were worth more dead than alive. But beyond money, Saquesh wanted for the heroes to be entirely out of the picture. He had heard rumors, whispers across the galaxy that the heroes had fled to some remote sector to lick their wounds, and he had no doubt they would be back to challenge his authority and finish what they had started with Lorso. That's what made it a tricky business; Saquesh, like all Quarrens, was in possession of a weak constitution, and his mounting paranoia constantly threatened to overrule his stranglehold on the crime organization.

He counted it as luck the moment his engineers picked up the _Blade_'s signals as the ship descended into the atmosphere of Nar Shaddaa and argued for clearance on a nearby landing pad. He watched her trajectory then turned quickly to one of his nearby lackeys to issue a command.

"Contact Caine and Cody at once," the squid-head commanded, calling for the deadliest weapons in Lorso's arsenal, "and put them on this job. I want those heroes _dead_, every last one of them!"

"Yes, sir," the timid human male replied, taking long strides toward the door. He returned, moments later, after having established contact with the bounty hunters' ship, which thankfully was lingering nearby in a pocket of space. Again convinced that it wasn't luck, Saquesh replied with sarcasm as he looked into the holo image of the war-hardened man and woman Lorso had kept at her side day and night as personal bodyguards, "How fortuitous. My thoughts were just preoccupied with the both of you, and with good reason. I have a mission for you."

Caine pointed the butt of her blaster directly toward him in the image as though taunting him with thoughts of his imminent death.

"We don't work for you; you work for us. Got it? That's how thing's worked with Lorso, only she was smart enough to understand it. I don't expect a squid-head like you has got much brains in that…head…of yours."

Cody glanced alarmingly over at the woman who seemed to speak with no reserve. Normally, the words would have affected Saquesh, but he was too preoccupied with his current targets to have cared about the intended slur.

"Whatever Lorso paid you, I'll triple it," the Exchange boss said, "if you will bring me each of the heads of the heroes of the Republic."

"The heads?" Caine asked. She was itching to smile, so she let it out. "Now you're talking my language."

"Good. I was hoping we might meet on some common ground about this."

Saquesh wasted no time in issuing them orders, though he was very careful about the way in which he chose his words, hoping to give the man and the woman the illusion of authority in this tenuous situation. All he needed was to convince them to help him kill the heroes, and then he would deal with them when they became a threat to him.

"When you have finished the job, contact me immediately."

"I'll contact you when I feel like it," Caine corrected him.

Saquesh only replied, "Yes."

As soon as the image feed cut, the now agitated Quarren slipped down into a chair and ordered for one of his lackeys to bring him a delicious pipe of fumes to suck on which would have been poisonous to most normal creatures. As he sucked off the pipe and contemplated the imminent demise of the heroes of the Republic, the Quarren silently congratulated himself on a job well done.

"You heard the man—er, _thing_—let's get moving," Cody said, strapping on a thick suit of armor as Caine piloted the ship toward the coordinates where their prey was waiting. Her red eye seemed to glint as mirth filled her insides, and even Cody seemed to take notice of her change of behavior.

"You feeling all right?"

"Never better," Caine said, gritting her teeth. Truth be told, she had been feeling a little trigger happy lately. And now her itchy finger was about to be rewarded. "Anytime I'm told I get to kill something, it warms my soul."

"You can say that again," Cody replied, grinning at the woman before him. He strapped on a thick utility belt that was loaded with strips of ammo, fully expecting to engage the heroes in combat on the ground once the battle was over. What he wasn't expecting, however, was that upon their arrival all of the members of the _Centurion's Blade_ would be standing around like sitting ducks directly outside of their ship's hull.

Cody braced one arm over his knee.

"Probably negotiating a price for the docks," he whispered into Caine's ear. "Bingo. We got 'em. Put her down lower, and let's wreak some havoc."

"Aye, aye, commander."

Caine's hands worked the complicated dials of the navicomputer, sending the ship into a nosedive toward the waiting heroes on the platform below. They scattered only moments before she would have hit the pavement head-on.

"Woman, are you crazy?" Cody barked. Even her aerial maneuvers were getting to be a bit too much for him, and that was saying something.

"What if I am? These bastards deserve it. Every last one of them."

Again, she sent the ship down into a nosedive, this time hell-bent on destroying absolutely everything below them.


	21. The Refugee Sector

Trentyn Taraster stood at the edge of the circular dock, trying to stave off the welling of dizziness that altered his balance as he looked down, his vision not even enough to see the lowest layers of Nar Shaddaa. There was barely what one would call a "barrier" between him and the edge; it was merely a calf-high swelling of metal on the dock. The screeching of the ship bearing down on their position yet again shocked the young man into action, as he stepped away from the edge and craned his neck up.

The ship had taken a straight nosedive down on their position, as if it intended to smash straight through them, the _Centurion's Blade_, and the dock. He glanced around, noticing his shipmates were as shocked by their situation as he was. The ship was not Cyrus', so apparently they had another crazy-ass hunter after them.

"What the hell do we do?!" Han shouted to him over the drone of the rapidly descending ship's engines.

"How the hell am I supposed to know?!" Trentyn screamed back.

"Get next to the _Blade_! They might open fire!" Carth yelled from his position nearest to the ship.

It was almost as if the maniacal pilot of the ship had heard them, because not a second later, bolts of energy were raining around the former Sith soldier. He launched himself at the ship, somersaulting and drawing from the Force to get him out of the line of fire.

The attacking ship got dangerously close to hitting the _Centurion's Blade_, but it pulled up at the last moment, screaming back into the sky to prepare for another onslaught.

"Tell me we have a freakin' bazooka!" Trinn commented, her eyes studying the ship that was now a tiny dot in the dark sky. She wasn't fooled by its distance though; it would be bearing down on them in just a few seconds.

"We don't have that kind of weaponry," Indy answered back.

"Some of us can get on the turrets," Mithic suggested. "It's the only firepower we have that could even put a dent in that thing."

"That would be a death wish," Bao-Dur said.

"Yeah, if we're in the ship, they'll start shooting the ship to kill us!" Evy explained.

"Frackin' nerfherders!" Indy cursed, knowing the _Blade_ wouldn't be getting out of this one unscathed.

"We can't just stand here!" Atton said.

"Shit! It's coming again!" Carina screamed as hot bolts of red came at them.

"Use the _Blade_ as a shield and scatter! We don't want to give them one concentrated target!" Carth ordered.

The crew members quickly obeyed, circling the perimeter of the _Blade_ for cover. Those who had lightsabers pulled them out and used them to attempt to deflect any bolts coming their way.

Bao-Dur stood close enough to Igrayne for her to notice he was watching over her safety, but she was too distracted with trying to both wield her lightsaber and control her nausea at the same time. The ship's blaster fire was mostly concentrated on the other side of the ship, but the smell of the super-heated metal and the horrible sounds of the shooting and the descending ship were making her sick. She deactivated her saber just as she doubled over to vomit.

Out of her peripheral vision, she saw the Zabrak take a few steps toward her, his lightsaber still firmly in hand. But then a lithe but strong arm wrapped itself around her ribcage, right under her breasts, supporting her weight as she threw up. She closed her eyes in an attempt to shut out all the disturbing scents and sounds around her.

She only heaved a couple times, and when she opened her eyes again, Bao was back to his further away position, his head just turning away from her. She looked up at her benefactor, not surprised to see Dustil.

"You can let go of me now," she said, weakened from her sickness.

"No thanks," he said as he pulled her down to a seated position and then covered her head with his arms as the weapon fire was directed their way.

On the other side of the ship, Tren held out his navy blue lightsaber, standing between Evy and the blaster bolts. The energy bolts from the guns mounted on the ship were much more powerful than charges from handheld weapons, and Tren's hands shook as his lightsaber's hilt did from the shock of absorbing three bolts in a row.

Atton, seeing the danger Evy and his best friend were in, skidded over to them from his previous hiding place. He was a reluctant hero, but a hero nonetheless, and Evy tossed her own lightsaber to him (the one Jeran had given her years ago) since she was still too weak to block any shots herself.

Captain John Mithic saw that on his one side, Atton, Tren, and Evy seemed to be handling themselves the best they could, so he glanced to his other side, where Trinn and Mical hunched down as far underneath the ship they could get, both rummaging through bags, while Carina stood in front of them, her yellow lightsaber activated. Fortunately, she hadn't had to use it yet.

Han and Indy, a little further beyond them, seemed to be too engrossed in some sort of argument to hide effectively. Every time a bolt hit her precious ship, which did not have its shields up since it was powered down, Indy let out a loud curse word. Mithic could clearly hear a "Sithspit" over the sounds of the attacking ship.

"What are you looking for?" Mithic asked Trinn and Mical. He didn't have to yell; he merely used the force to amplify his voice so they could hear him.

"Grenades!" Trinn answered, while Mical said, "Medpacs!" at the same moment.

"Grenades are going to do jack shit to that ship," Mithic replied.

"Well, I'm not going to take this attack quivering under a ship like a frightened Gizka!" Trinn yelled back, pausing in her search to glare at the captain with blazing light blue eyes.

Something about her bravery and determination struck a chord with Mithic, though he didn't have time to think about why at the current time. He was already too busy gauging his own abilities against this quandary. Even with his Force powers, he didn't have the ability to alter the course of a ship barreling down on them at such speeds. Well, maybe he could "push" the ship a bit, but he knew it would send the ship out of control, and that would turn it into a barreling trajectory of death that he would not be able to exert any control over.

As the ship came down for its third sweep, Rani buried her head in Carth's chest, covering her ears with her hands as the shots hit the edge of the part of the _Blade_ that they hid under. The admiral pulled her closer into his arms, ducking down and pressing her back against the ship, using his own body as a shield for her should one of the bolts find their mark. He listened carefully, though it was painful to his ears, to judge how long the metal of the ship above them would hold out before fires and explosions began. It didn't sound good.

"Rani, look at me." She obeyed, her dark eyes wide with fear. He continued, "When I say 'go,' I want you to run toward the buildings."

"I'm not leaving you here," Rani replied. Her voice sounded barely a whisper over the barrage of weaponry.

"Listen, this ship is not going to take many more hits until it blows. I'll distract the firepower of the ship, and you run."

"I'm not letting you give up your life, Carth. If we go down, we do it together." As she said it, she clutched at his orange jacket, as if trying to pull him closer to her and to relative safety.

"Rani?" he said almost breathlessly as he stared down into the face of the woman he loved, the woman who'd changed the entire course of his life just by entering it.

"Yes?" she answered, steeling her face as if preparing to be stubborn with him again.

"Marry me."

She suddenly stilled, her body unresponsive to the danger around them as she looked at him incredulously. "Wha—?"

Carth pulled away, sinking down to one knee. Rani's eyes grew even larger as Carth grasped each of her hands in his own. "Rani Taraster, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

An extra-close bolt of energy hit the ground beside Carth's kneeling form, and Rani shrieked in terror, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him to her. Even though he was quite a bit taller than her, she still held onto his collar as if she was trying to look down at him to scold him.

"We are being shot to all hell, hiding under a ship that might explode at any minute, with no feasible means of escape, and you're getting down on one knee to ask me to marry you? Are you crazy?"

"Maybe," Carth allowed, already knowing that there was no way they'd get out of this one alive. "Look, I've been waiting till the right time to ask you, but now we're running out of time, and I didn't want to…leave without ever asking you."

Rani swallowed heavily, tears springing to her eyes as she released his collar and hugged him instead. Carth Onasi wrapped his arms around her as if he wished he could protect from the galaxy and everything evil within it. His cheek rested against her head; the soft brown tendrils of her hair tickled his lips.

"You gave me a future, Rani… I want to give you a future, too, with me."

"You did, Carth, you did," Rani exclaimed, tears now running freely down her face. "I've never been happier than I've been with you in my life."

"Is that a yes, beautiful?" Carth asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Rani smiled and then her pretty face turned serious. "I think this is the end, Carth. I don't think we'll make it."

"Neither do I, but does it really matter if we love each other?" Carth answered.

It was the perfect thing to say. If he would have told her that they would survive, it would have sounded like a cheap, blatant lie. He was giving up his attachment to the galaxy and holding on to their enduring love to comfort him in their last moments.

Rani smiled at him, thankful that she had even gotten the chance to love a man such as him. It would have been a dream come true to marry her handsome pilot, but not all dreams were destined to come true.

"I love you, Carth. I'd love to be your wife."

Then he kissed her, his arms wrapped around her, and she clung to him, not ever wanting to let him go. They continued their lovers' embrace, even through the showers of sparks that danced off the bolts striking the metal of the ship. Yes, if they were to die, they would do it together…

-----------------

Jene spent the remainder of his time ahead of his quarry doing the same thing he always did when he had extra time: working on his weapons. Having managed to acquire a prototype "rotary blaster cannon," named the XZ-6, he had immediately begun work on making the already brutal weapon even more obscenely powerful. The idea of using Hellfire modifications on a weapon as big as this one ordinarily wouldn't have been possible, because the weapon would literally melt itself away, but dividing the shots between multiple barrels meant they wouldn't heat up too quickly to keep from disintegrating.

That didn't mean it was easy, though. He had needed additional parts to keep the core cool and to increase the amount of ammunition it could hold, all of which needed a lot of time to install. That, plus needing six Hellfire kits, which took time to make, meant that it had been a long project for such a straightforward modification. Finally, though, he had finished it. He renamed it the Hellfire Z-106, so-called because it could fire 106 Hellfire rounds in a second. Powerful coolants—mostly liquid nitrogen—kept it from tearing itself apart under pressure, and overcharged power packs arranged in large, circular clips provided enough ammunition for sustained fire. Now all he needed to do was test it.

The roar of engines just outside his own cramped ship, and the subsequent firing of very large blasters, caused him to jump to his feet, an act that only rewarded him with smacking his head on the ceiling above. He winced but recovered as gracefully as one could after something like that, and took his blaster cannon out of the _Black Sun_ to see what was going on.

Below his docking bay, and a quarter of a kilometer away, rested the _Centurion's Blade_, although he used the word "rested" in only the most liberal sense. There was nothing restful about being repeatedly pounded with blaster fire from a ship that was repeatedly dive-bombing it.

Jene was left with a startling conflict: on one hand, his enemies faced almost certain doom. Their weapons weren't powerful enough to destroy the attacking ship, and there was nowhere to run. If he did nothing, they would all be dead in a matter of minutes, and that would be the end of it.

On the other hand, he would never get his chance for revenge, or the bounty, or a chance to drive away his demons again. The woman who had reminded him so much of Jana had brought back the nightmares to him, had made him doubt himself, had returned him to the man he once was: the man too weak even to defend his own family. Killing her was the only logical option: eliminate the source of the nightmare, and you eliminate the nightmare. No one else was going to kill her before he had his chance to make things right.

That settled it for him: he was going to kill the would-be killers, make them pay for daring to trespass on _his_ kills.

"HK-47, prepare to initiate attack protocol eighteen on my command. Your target is the _Centurion's Blade_'s primary thruster."

As Jene hefted the Z-106 into firing position, HK lined up the sun rifle's target reticule and waited with unusual patience for the command. It had been years since he had been given a command to use his attack protocols; he was willing to wait a few more moments.

Jene pulled the trigger on the blaster cannon and was met with an empty whirring sound as the barrels on the gun began to turn. It took a full second for them to get up to speed enough to fire, but once it began the effect was startling. Blaster bolts pumped out of the gun so fast that the individual sounds were fused together into a single buzzing noise, like the chainsaws on some primitive worlds. The rounds sprayed everywhere as a thousand tiny beams of light, and for the next five seconds the rate of fire went higher and higher until the buzz was replaced by an even faster noise, like a zipper. Jene stood as still as he could against the punishing recoil of the weapon, and brought it to bear against the attacking ship.

Initially, the bolts seemed to have no effect, but as they continued to pound the side of the ship the sheer force of the continual blows tore away sections of armor plating, exposing vulnerable machinery to the maelstrom of fire and light. The ship stopped firing as its crew realized that they were under fire, but before its guns could be brought to bear against the assassins, an explosion rocked the fighter in the air. The smoke rising from the engine told Jene he had hit home: with the engine damaged, they wouldn't be able to continue the fight or even divert power to the weapons systems to return fire. The pilots seemed to realize it as well, and the ship limped away through the urban valleys of Nar Shaddaa. A small smile played across the bounty hunter's face, but he wasn't done yet.

"HK-47, open fire!"

A trio of well-placed shots hit the _Blade_ right in its thruster, and a storm of blaster bolts from Jene's blaster cannon pounded the ship until his ammunition ran out. The smoke of scorched metal and blaster scoring cleared away, and judging by the sheer amount of hits, he was certain that he had disabled their engines. Running away wouldn't be an option this time.

Without a word, a taunt, or even a laugh, he returned to his ship, put his Z-106 cannon on a shelf he had saved for it, grabbed his blaster pistols, and holstered them before walking away from the scene, HK following close behind.

-----------------

Nar Shaddaa was unlike any place Carina could remember. It was, in many ways, like Coruscant, as it was heavily populated and fully covered with city sprawl. However, unlike Coruscant's gleaming buildings and clean, well-maintained appearance, the Smuggler's Moon was dirty and polluted. The buildings were all black and sparsely decorated with mostly red and white lights, some of which flickered irregularly. The streets were littered along the sides, though no one else seemed to pay much attention to the grime. Even the air seemed heavier, and as Carina looked up to the sky, she could not find any trace of the stars she knew lay beyond the atmosphere of the moon. The emerald-eyed woman guessed that the air was too fraught with polluting particles.

Not only were Carina's normal senses on overload from her exposure to the Vertical City, but her extreme sensitivity to the Force also opened her up to a more severe experience of the city. The Force seemed to permeate every dark corner of the city, and yet it was as if everyone walked around totally in denial of its power. The thought brought back a memory of her time on Coruscant as Kavar's padawan, when he had told her he had never been to a place so alive with the Force and yet so dead to it as Nar Shaddaa.

Carina blinked a few times as she realized she would never again see her beloved master. He had been frustrating and mistrusting at times, but he had truly loved her, this much Carina knew. Kavar had loved her so much that he had taken her to find her old friends, and that course of action had ended up leading to his demise. There was a hole in her being where Kavar's companionship had been.

To distract her from her unpleasant thoughts, Carina looked to those around her. She saw many familiar faces and a few unfamiliar ones. Everyone else seemed in as much of a bad mood as she herself was, except for Carth and Rani. They didn't seem outlandishly blissful, but Rani walked with a serene expression while Carth held her smaller hand in his as he glanced around, seemingly staying aware for any signs of trouble. Although, every once in a while the admiral would look to his mate and his face would soften before he would go back to his task. Carina figured their behavior was due to their comfort in one another and wished she could remember more about the woman who used to be her best friend.

On the other side of Carth Onasi, a man with dark hair and fairly nondescript features walked. Carina could not recognize him from her memories at all, but she knew who she was from the few readings about the Battle of Dantooine that Kavar had allowed her to see. He was John Mithic, and he was now a captain in the Republic after his heroics during the space portion of the battle. He was very strong in the Force, yet Carina sensed no conflict in him like there was in her. His alignment was very strongly light-sided, the highest Carina had ever sensed in someone before.

Beside him was the tall, fair-haired woman who Carina had not had the chance to become acquainted with. She seemed to have a tough exterior and also looked quite strong, and Carina counted herself lucky to have a soldier like her on her side.

Next were Indy and Han, who were the only ones talking in the entire group. They were discussing the huge list of repairs the mechanic had told them needed to be done before the _Centurion's Blade_ would be operational. They had been lucky to even find a mechanic willing to work on the ship, and they had ended up scraping together almost all of the credits they had on them to put a down payment on the repair costs. They would have to come up with more money soon, but they would have to worry about that later. For now, they had to concentrate on finding their contact, Geriel, so they would have a place to stay.

Dustil, a slightly lanky young man, dragged his feet as he ambled behind Indy and Han, listening in on their conversation. Other than knowing that Dustil was Carth's previously prodigal son, and that he had been a part of the Sith, Carina could remember no more about the brooding man.

Near Dustil, Igrayne walked, her anguish carefully concealed by her expressionless face and upright gait. Carina could tell that there was something major going on in Igrayne's life, not only by Bao-Dur's physical distance from the woman, but also because Carina knew Igrayne and could see past her façade.

The other friend she could remember, Evy, walked a bit behind Carina. She looked back for a moment to see the blonde woman strolling between the scoundrel Atton and Rani's brother Tren, neither of whom Carina could remember much about.

Although Carina had no qualms checking on the status of her other companions, she carefully kept her gaze away from the man who walked a few paces away from her. Little by little, she was remembering things about Mical. Some were quite pleasant memories, like afternoons spent sparring in the fields of Dantooine, while others were very hard for her to remember. One in particular had made it very difficult to look at the messily handsome doctor: the very moment that she had given up her virginity to him.

Even now, just brushing the surface of the memory had made her face redden. She did not remember enough about him yet, but she did remember that she loved him. Not only that, but she even _felt_ like she was in love with him.

"Carina?"

Carina turned her head to look at Evy, who had caught up to her.

"Yes, Evy?" she replied, smiling at her friend.

All at once, Evy stopped and threw her arms around her old friend. After Carina had recovered from the sudden affection, she hugged Evy back.

"What's this for?" she asked, laughter in her voice.

"I'm just so glad that you're alive!" Evy exclaimed, her arms tightening around Carina.

"That I am," Carina replied with a silly grin on her face. She had initially been a bit apprehensive of approaching Evy for fear that the woman would be angry at her.

Evy pulled away. "You should have woken me up, you know, when you came into the dormitory to sleep."

"I know, I just…I was afraid that you'd hate me," Carina admitted, feeling comfortable in the other woman's nurturing presence.

"That's silly…what would I hate you for?" Evy asked, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Oh you know…the Sith lord thing," Carina said with an aloofness that was comical.

One of Evy's hands found Carina's. "That's over with, Carina. I don't see a Sith lord standing before me right now. You're my friend, and that's what you'll always be, you hear?"

Carina's eyes unwittingly filled with heavy tears. How had she ever turned to the dark side with friends such as these? She blinked, trying to will away the moisture, while she smiled at her friend, hoping that Evy would know how much it meant to hear those words from her.

"It goes against every fiber of my being to interrupt hot girl-on-girl action like this, but I'm afraid we'll need to keep up with the others," Tren said, lazily draping an arm around each woman. Atton laughed from behind the Casanova.

"Is he always like this?" Carina asked, jerking her head toward Trentyn, but allowing him to rest his arm on her shoulder…for now.

"I'm afraid so," Evy answered, beaming up at Tren before they all jogged to catch up with the others.

Carth Onasi and John Mithic led the group as they went into the above-ground entrance to the Refugee Sector. The room had a horrid stench coming from it, and as Mithic looked around, he noticed a large Gamorrean seemingly standing guard with an enormous ax crossed over its pudgy chest, the head of the weapon resting on its shoulder. With him were a group consisting of a Quarren, a Twi'lek, a Rodian, and two men. The Gamorrean was the first to sight the group, and the creature let out a high, swine-like squeal to warn the others.

Mithic turned around in time to see Rani, Indy, and Han enter, when he put a hand up to inform them to tell the others not to come in. The taller of the two men sauntered over to Mithic and Carth, taking his time in approaching the men as he peeked around them to check out the rest of the group that had entered.

"What are you doing here?" the man asked, with no semblance of courtesy.

"This is the refugee sector, is it not?" Mithic asked, with not a note of emotion in his tone.

"It is," the guy responded, obviously taken aback by Mithic's unchallenged manner.

"We're here to find refuge," Carth began. "We were told we could find it here."

The guy laughed as if ridiculing them. "_Refuge?_ I don't think you'll find that here. I take it you're vets?"

Carth knew that many veterans of the Jedi Civil War came to Nar Shaddaa to run away from their enemies, as did citizens of destroyed planets who came because they had no other place to go. The admiral merely tipped his head down in answer, never taking his eyes off the man in front of them.

"I thought so," the man replied. "I could smell the desperation on you losers from miles away."

"We just need a place to sleep for a couple nights," Mithic said, ignoring the guy's insults. He didn't want to kill anyone if he didn't have to…

"Oh yeah," the man sneered. "Then what are you going to do, find someone to transport you off this rock? Ha! I hear the same damn story, and it never happens."

"Thanks for the information," Carth said with admirable patience. "Now where did you say the refugee area was?"

"I didn't," the man replied, looking bored. "You two will have to find your own way. But go on…get. We'll let you through."

Mithic was wary of the man and the others who stood watching behind him, but there was nothing else left to do but attempt to head down the corridor. The two Republic officers started across the room when Rani let out a strangled cry behind them. They both turned around to see Rani in a chokehold by the guy, the rest of his group with blasters drawn, Indy and Han with their own weapons readied at the enemy.

"I said I'd let you two go, but I didn't say anything about the rest of 'em," the man said, jerking his head toward the door where the others waited. Somehow he'd known about them.

"Let her go," Carth said, his voice low and dangerous.

The guy laughed, tightening his grip on Rani. She clutched at his arm and took gulping breaths of air, her breathing obviously disrupted by the man's arm. "I don't think so…I think I'll keep her."

"It's okay, we'll get her out of this. Let's not do anything too rash," Mithic rationalized from Carth's side, talking quietly so only the admiral would hear. John was pretty sure that Carth heard him, although the man made no indication of it.

"I'd let her go if I was you," Han said, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. "_Keeping_ her will be hazardous to your health."

"Why if it isn't Han Solo…you've got a lot of nerve coming back here. You got a death wish, Solo?"

"Yeah, for you," the scoundrel answered, his trigger finger practically itching for action.

The group of thugs behind the guy who had a hold on Rani fanned out in the room, making it harder for the crew to focus their attention on one place.

"Here's what we're going to do. The rest of your buddies are going to come in here, and you all are going to lie down your weapons as well as anything else of value. We'll take those items off your hands and let all you go on your merry way down to the hellhole they call the Refugee Sector. All of you except Solo, of course…his former boss would just _kill_ to see him."

Mithic was hesitant to make any move. If he made any wrong move, definitely Rani—and perhaps more of them—would be caught in the crossfire.

The tension in the room was palpable and the silence deafening. Even Rani had quieted down as the man loosened his suffocating grasp on her neck. Carth then quietly placed his blaster on the floor, standing up and looking the man right in the face.

"Now let her go."

"Nuh uh uh…not until the rest of the deal's been fulfilled."

Carth's expression turned stormy, but he did turn to the others and motion for them to enter. With the noise of the others entering, Carth turned to Mithic. "I hope you're thinking of something, Captain."

"I'm trying, Admiral," Mithic said with the sudden realization that Carth, too, had no clue of what to do to get them out of this.

Suddenly, a door from the back opened up and a gaggle of more men and aliens working for the Exchange came in, as if called in for backup.

"Lay down your weapons," the man ordered, sneering.

They were outnumbered, and with nothing else left to do, lightsabers, blasters, and vibroblades were laid on the filthy floor, leaving the crew defenseless.

"Get your ass over here, Solo. We'll take you to Logga the Hutt…the fat bastard's been complaining about you disappearing for weeks! I bet I'll get a nice little reward for bringing you back."

"Let her go now or I'm not going over there," Han said, his fists balled at his sides.

The guy scoffed. "You're in no position to be making deals…besides, I think I might keep her after all." The man took out his blaster and traced it from Rani's temple to her lips. "We don't see many like her coming through these parts, and I would be a fool to let go of the chance of letting her warm up my bed." As he said this, he shoved the end of his blaster into Rani's mouth, both as a lewd and violent gesture.

As the guy had been busy talking and terrorizing Rani with his blaster, he'd taken no notice of Rani's hand carefully unholstering her blaster. Mithic noticed it immediately, and he forced himself to keep his eyes off Rani's hand so as not to warn the enemy. Carth must have noticed, too, because he stiffened slightly. John Mithic swallowed, preparing himself to call on the Force.

Rani aimed the gun down, all the while whimpering and shaking as if terrified of the man. She didn't even look down as she squeezed the trigger, the bolt hitting the man's foot directly. Because of the sheer surprise, the man let go of Rani, howling in pain. She dropped to the floor once out of his grasp in order to get out of the line of fire as the other Exchange thugs stared at the scene in shock.

It didn't take much to get them back into action. In fact, as soon as Rani had shot, Carth had dived for his blaster, and now he, too, shot at the man, hitting him in the forehead and killing him instantly. As soon as Carth fired, chaos ensued as all the Exchange thugs opened fire at once.

The crew of the _Centurion's Blade_ was all moving to pick up their discarded weapons, but they weren't quite fast enough. Mithic had not made a move for his lightsaber yet, just in case something like this happened. He threw his whole effort into constructing a Force barrier. He'd never made one as large as the one he'd need to protect the entire crew, but he would die before letting anyone be killed because of any weakness on his part.

Time seemed to slow down, forming an agonizing scene as the barrage of blaster bolts came closer and closer to the crew. Mithic could have sworn he was screaming from the effort as he called the Force to him. He kept expanding the barrier to incredible lengths to protect all of them, hoping that it would not create weak spots in the barrier. His whole body shook as he poured every ounce of the Force he had channeling through him into the life-saving barrier.

Then suddenly time went back to its normal speed, bolts zipping toward them in flashes of light. Mithic watched from his now kneeling position as charge after charge was deflected by the shimmering barrier he had erected. By now, the others had gotten their weapons, and John watched, trying to fight off the exhaustion that tugged at him.

Trinn was one of the first into the thick of thugs, wielding dual vibroblades with great skill. Trentyn, Atton, Igrayne, Bao-Dur, and Carina jumped in after her with thrumming lightsabers as they deflected bolts and sliced into their enemies. Dustil, Mical, and Carth all pulled out their own modified vibroblades to fight the intensely close combat, while Indy, Han, and Evy—who had given up her lightsaber for Atton's use—hung back and used blasters. The last thing Mithic saw before he succumbed to the darkness was Rani picking herself off the floor and aiming her blaster.

Mithic's motionless body was now lying on the ground. He had exhausted himself by trying to create a Force barrier to shield the crew members from the onslaught of blaster fire, and it had bought them precious little time in which to make a tactical retreat so that they were positioned just beyond the edge of the doorway. The narrow door meant the Exchange thugs could only pass through two or three at a time, which leveled the field for the outnumbered heroes.

Indy, Han, and Evy lagged behind and volleyed blaster bolts from a distance while the melee fighters stood up front to pick off their attackers as they came at them through the door. The electrum-finish, vibrant-hued lightsabers made short work of the few Gamorrean pigs who struggled to fit their girth through the small opening.

Meanwhile, Carth exchanged blaster fire with the thugs, sending vicious bolts back to his opponents. His concern for Rani was top priority, and it was clear in the expression he wore as he threw a glance over his shoulder at the woman who was firing shot after shot into the busy crowd. She was intensely focused on the task at hand, as evidenced by the deep lines shadowing the corners of her mouth where she was grimacing.

"You okay, gorgeous?"

Rani didn't allow her eyes to stray very far from her targets, otherwise she would lose her concentration and misfire. In this slim passage, the durasteel walls could easily repel the blaster bolts and send them into one of her friends accidentally. So instead she just gritted her teeth and said, "I am fine, Carth."

Carth grimaced as he noticed Rani's aim was bound to sooner or later cause an accident.

"Focus it more on the middle. You're too off center."

"Like this?" she asked, adjusting the barrel of the heavy repeating carbine more toward her left.

"Beautiful."

She found she was having more success after applying Carth's suggestion, and the medley of fat Gamorrean and Twi'lek corpses gathering at her feet was beginning to multiply.

Meanwhile, the lightsaber wielders had nearly finished off what was left of the Exchange thugs. One Twi'lek remained when all but Atton deactivated their lightsabers. The scoundrel moved menacingly toward the pathetic creature, who was on his knees with his lips practically kissing the floor. The weight of Evy's lightsaber in Atton's hand felt comfortable, natural, and he pivoted his palm to strike a menacing pose.

"Please, do not kill me!" the groveling creature replied. "I was only obeying orders."

"Get up," Carth said, holstering both blasters as he walked over to join the scoundrel in interrogating the pathetic alien.

"Anything you want, anything at all is yours if you only spare my life," the creature continued in broken Basic, its voice and tone all too shaky sounding. When the creature refused to comply with Carth's order, he said it louder, his words slightly clipped.

"I said _get up_!"

Slowly, he rose, though not without hesitation. The minute he reached his full height, Carth's fist was on his collar, drawing him near enough so that they were face to face.

"Now, I want you to run back to your Exchange buddies and tell whoever sent you that it's not finished. No matter how many of you they send, we'll be ready for you. Tell your master that."

Atton delivered a roundhouse kick to the creature's abdomen, causing him to double over with a groan. When Carth's eyes sought the scoundrel's out viciously, he merely rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "I needed that."

"Go on, get!" Carth commanded the creature, who was fast recovering from the speedy blow Atton had delivered to his midsection. Limping weakly away and grasping his bruised side, the Twi'lek disappeared from their view.

"Piece of cake," Dustil said cockily, sheathing his vibroblades as a satisfied smile replaced the concerned look he had worn just moments before.

"Good thing that's settled. There's no fracking way I was headed back to Logga the Hutt's royal sliminess," Han Solo quipped. He looked at Indy for approval, but she wasn't having any of it.

"Now, where's this Geriel?" Trinn interrupted, wiping a stray bead of sweat from her brow with the backside of her arm. Her hair had come unbound from its long braid, and she used both her hands to tame it back into place.

"He should be due east when we head into the Refugee Sector," Carth explained. Rani moved up beside him.

"Then we should probably get going. There's no doubt those Exchange thugs will be back with another welcoming party, and soon."

"Rani's right," Carth said as the rest of the crew gathered around him to digest their next plan of action. "We should get moving. Follow me."

Carth and Rani walked side by side, resuming the affectionate touching of their hands that had Dustil so peeved for much of the journey. Following in their stead were Han and Indy, Carina, Mical, Bao-Dur, Trinn, Mithic, Dustil, and Igrayne, who trailed far enough behind to give herself time to catch her breath from the fight. She was looking forward to getting to the safe house and hopefully taking a long dip in the 'fresher to wash away her fears and deep anxieties. That was, if the Refugee Sector even had modern conveniences—but she seriously doubted it did. She had heard horrifying tales of the kind of filth in which the refugees lived, and she was hesitant to expose herself to such living conditions, but she really didn't have any other choice given their current situation.

The steep ramp curved down and blossomed out into a wide open space through which the heroes stepped. Almost immediately, they were assaulted by the smell of waste, refuse, and sickness. It hit Igrayne like a ton of bricks, and she steeled her stomach to ward against any more vomiting.

Home to thousands of the Jedi Civil War's dispossessed, abandoned, and diseased, the Refugee Sector was only clean in comparison to the planet's waste repository. With virtually no space to place habitable accommodations, the refugee houses were stacked nearly on top of each other. Upon setting foot in the dump, nearly every crew member choked with disgust at the pungent smell that tickled their olfactory senses.

"What a delightful smell we've discovered," Han said, an arm cautiously guarding his nostrils. Atton did the same, his hand thrown over his mouth as though he were going to gag at the mixture of sights and smells. It was not his first trip to the planet; he had escaped here after the wars to get lost in the city's busy hustle and bustle and forge an entirely new identity. But the distinctive scent never failed to catch him off guard, such as it did now.

"Bastila said not to make eye contact with any of the refugees," Carth muttered under his breath to Rani, who walked quietly at his side. "She said we would be inviting trouble. There's many beggars looking for a credit or two, but we obviously can't stop to feed them all. And that's exactly what they want. So stay sharp."

Rani displayed her disbelief as she sent a glance around at her surroundings. The air was thick with smoke and smog, and it was suddenly no wonder that the average life expectancy down in this dump was no more than forty. Thankfully, they wouldn't be spending that long here while they hid out in Geriel's safe house.

As the heroes passed, they drew the stares of many a refugee. They hung around the main hub of the Refugee Sector, gathered around a tiny campfire that had been fueled by waste of all kinds. A mother and her child cooked a small pot of soup over the fires, while several of the younger men—clad in all-beige robes—leaned against the buildings, arms crossed in annoyance at the new arrivals. Not a word was spoken as the heroes continued their silent jaunt through the town, the refugees gaping at them.

Carth led the way to a sizeable dwelling that looked minimally more well-kept than the others surrounding it. It was not the only larger dwelling in the sector, however; the area encompassed several miles, and every single unit of space was packed full with bodies on top of bodies. It was disgusting the way these people were living, and he made his disgust known with a low, guttural snarl that lodged in his throat.

"Nice to know we take care of our own, especially our veterans," he said sarcastically, and he felt the tug of Rani's hand on his forearm.

"I would have changed things…had I been made senator. I would've started with Telos, and this would have been my very next stop!"

Carth chuckled good-naturedly, but Rani couldn't help but feel young and naïve as he cupped her face in his hands and said, "You're so idealistic. But that's why I love you. One person can't change the galaxy, beautiful."

"But we can try," she merely said.

"Shh, do you hear that?"

A loud cough mixed with what sounded like a hiccup came from just around the corner. As Carth moved to explore the sound's origins, a frightened young girl in a homespun tunic and trousers moved to intercept him.

"Don't! He's diseased! You'll get it for sure!"

"Who's diseased?" Carth said, stooping to her level. He lowered his body in a crouch, his hands draped across his knees as he spoke with the little girl. His easy, warm manner toward her showed an innate affinity for children. That thought warmed Rani's heart.

"Geriel. Mama says not to touch him; you shouldn't either! Then you'll die, too!"

"Run along, young one," he said. The girl did as he commanded and fled the scene. Rani looked at Carth.

"Are you sure it's all right? I mean, Bastila wouldn't send us somewhere that wasn't safe, right?"

"Just trust me."

Atton snorted.

"Where have I heard that one before?"

Ignoring the callous remark, Carth took a tentative step forward. When he gathered enough courage and was sure his party was together before advancing, he turned the corner and found a dirty old beggar crouching by a fire to warm his hands. The man, taken off guard, let out a cry of surprise. Carth's hand instinctively flew to one of his holstered blasters, ready to have it out at a moment's notice. He was so involved in studying the man's face that he didn't notice his son creep up behind him.

"Careful, Father. I don't like the looks of him."

"Me neither, Dustil, but he's our only alternative."

"What do you want?" the beggar said, standing up when he noticed he had visitors. He was fairly short and stocky, and he wore most of his weight around the middle. The simple utility belt he had was struggling to stay put around his belly, which was the focal centerpiece for his body. Under the smattering of dirt on his face, Carth could see that he was balding on top, and he had combed his remaining hair over the shiny patch at top to poorly disguise this fact.

"A friend sent me."

"A friend?" The man ambled over toward him with a slight limp. "A man doesn't have many friends in a place like this."

"She spoke very highly of you, said you helped her out during the wars," Carth said cryptically.

"She lied, I'm afraid. I merely ducked for cover and was praised as a hero when it was all over. A man's got to look after his own neck, you know."

Carth chuckled. "It's good to finally meet you."

"And you as well. How many of there are you?" Geriel craned his neck to look at the group flanking Carth.

"Fourteen."

"So many?" the man said. "I just assumed there would be a few of you—five, maybe six. Oh well, the more the merrier. Come inside quickly. I fear our conversation isn't private out here; the Exchange has ears and eyes all over the galaxy, as does Czerka."

"Yes, I know what you mean."

The man pushed a door open into the modest abode, which consisted of a small gathering room, a few spare bedrooms, a 'fresher, and a kitchenette. Compared to the outside, the inside was a sight to behold. It was sparingly decorated, but it radiated an aura of coziness and warmth. Geriel welcomed the heroes into his house and shut the door, careful to evade the notice of those walking around outside the safe house.

"So what was that I heard about you being diseased and all?" Atton asked, edging closer to Evy now that they were all crammed into one room with the supposedly dying refugee harborer.

"My cover. And not a very good one, I'm afraid," Geriel said, sitting down cross-legged on a mat on the floor. The entire room was filled with mats. Strangely, there were no chairs or tables to be found. It gave the abode a very organic feeling.

"I've raised suspicion on a number of times, enough to set the Exchange on my tail, but not enough to put a dent in my little operation."

"Your _operation_?" Carina echoed, not realizing the moment she spoke, Mical's eyes were upon her, devouring every aspect of her appearance.

"Yeah, harboring refugees, escaped convicts, criminals—you know, the works."

Carth and Rani shared a glance that spoke volumes. Bastila had never mentioned that about Geriel. But they were here now, and the mats looked so inviting…

"You're just lucky you came at a time where I have enough accommodations to fit you all. I can't believe she didn't tell me there'd be fourteen of you!" the refugee said, mumbling to himself.

"Listen, we won't trespass too long on your hospitality," Carth explained. "We just need a place to stay while we get a bit of money to fix up our ship and hide out for a while until the psychopath who's looking for us gives up the chase."

"I figured you were in a bit of trouble when Bastila contacted me. But what's this about a psychopath?" Geriel said, his body completely relaxed as he stretched out on the mat—the complete opposite of what he appeared just two minutes ago while warming his hands at the fire.

"Just some guy who's out to kill us, sell us off, collect a bounty on us. You know, that sort of thing," Atton said, sounding completely nonplused.

"Funny you came to Nar Shaddaa if that's what you were trying to escape!" Geriel replied.

Igrayne could take no more of the polite conversation. Her head had been throbbing ever since entering the lower city, and she held both thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose to try and calm the incessant aching.

"Excuse me, do you have a refresher?" she said quietly, not wanting to disturb the man.

"Sure I do. It's down the corner and to the left," Geriel said, using his hands to draw a map in the air. Igrayne smiled politely and moved toward the corner. She noticed Dustil getting up to assist her to the 'fresher, but she merely shook her head. He sat down at once, realizing that she wanted some privacy after the long time spent in close quarters on the ship. He could relate to that own need for himself.

As Dustil returned his gaze to the old man, he couldn't shake the feeling that the Zabrak was watching him. A quick glance around confirmed this fact. His hand focused on the vibroblade that was kissing his thigh, the cool steel an arm's reach away. He fought the urge to draw it out right then and there, knowing that his father would strongly disapprove of their fighting in the safe house of a host.

Geriel continued to drone on, regaling the group with stories of the goings-on in Nar Shaddaa up until that point. Apparently the Exchange and Czerka had been making their presence much more known on the planet lately—which was unusual for the crime syndicates. Many of the refugees had reason to believe the two organizations were just a front for whatever the real operation was, and that someone with much more influence was pulling the strings from afar, causing chaos to envelop the usually peaceful city.

"Or so I heard," concluded the old refugee. "You don't get much opportunity for civil conversation when half the town thinks you're about to croak."

Indy snickered and tapped her fedora over her face.

"But you must all be very tired from your journey. I'll show you to your quarters so you can get some rest, and then tomorrow we'll see about repairing that ship of yours, hmm?"

-------------

After Igrayne had thankfully vacated the 'fresher, which was about thirty minutes later, Carina went in to splash water on her face and wash up for bed. On her way back from the facilities, she turned the short corner into the room she thought Geriel had dubbed the "women's quarters." Unfortunately, she was very much mistaken, and what Carina found herself staring at was a shirtless Mical. His tight, toned body was in very good condition, and Carina stood frozen, rooted to the ground, as she studied the powerful musculature in his back when he bent down to neatly fold his clothes in a pile beside the bed he had designated as his own. His body was very much reminiscent of her old Jedi master's, and it pained her to make the connection.

A sob caught in her throat as the result of these remembrances, and she sought to contain it too late. The sound stirred Mical, and he flipped around at once, blushing when he realized Carina was peeking in on a very private moment. He believed in a modicum of modesty, especially around his crew mates, and this seemed to violate all sense of decency and courtesy. Of course, it was Carina, and Carina had seen him naked once and embraced that same body, run her lips over his rippling shoulders and her hands over his tight back muscles. He could still feel her in his thoughts, and those thoughts were beginning to manifest themselves physically. Embarrassed, Mical bent to retrieve his discarded clothes, holding the shirt strategically in front of his lower extremities to prevent Carina from seeing anything.

The woman merely smiled, having taken no notice of his current state of humiliation. She was enjoying the view from where he was and noticing little incongruities with his image that didn't quite match up with the one she had in her head. The blue-eyed man she knew had been much more…clean shaven.

"You need a haircut," she said with a giggle.

Mical froze, stunned to silence by her words. The casualness with which she said the words only served to compound his confusion. Obviously Carina was beginning to remember snippets of her past if she could remember he had once worn his hair in a cleanly shorn fashion.

"Yes, I do," he said, sounding too excited for what it was. Carina suddenly realized why he was so happy and shared in his excitement. A surprised hand covered her mouth as pride swelled within her breast.

"Force, did you hear what I just said?"

"Yes," he said. Remembering his resolution to let the woman go, his behavior became cold and emotionless once again. He was merely acting out of self-preservation, trying to guard his heart against her advances—however sincere they were. "If you'll excuse me, I must finish dressing for bed." He said this with a sense of finality, nodding toward the door. Carina took it as a nonverbal cue for her to exit the room and leave him alone. But she couldn't; she was too happy with the discovery she had just made.

"I'm sorry." She entered the cavernous room and walked cautiously toward him. "I have to know something."

"Pardon?" Mical said, his eyebrow raising. As Carina came close to him, her vivid emerald eyes locking on his blue ones, her mind flooded with bittersweet memories. She suddenly blurted out the question she had been longing to ask him ever since they met again on the ship.

"Were we lovers?"

It was the question she had originally posed to Kavar, but which he had evaded with more lies about her past and who she had really been. But now, she trusted that she could finally get a truthful answer from him, the owner of those blue eyes which still haunted her night and day.

Mical licked his lips, his throat gone suddenly dry. Carina's question had caught him completely off guard. What's more, he wasn't sure he wanted to answer. But he did.

"Yes." He quickly added, "It was a very long time ago."

Carina nodded. "I remember. It was under the tree. I pleaded with you not to, but you kissed me." Her eyes glazed over as the memory filled her entire being, stronger than any feeling she had ever felt before in her life—even stronger than the power that had gripped her body when she embraced the dark side. "You didn't care who saw; not Master Vrook, or Vandar, or Zhar. Not the padawans, either. At that moment, you said it was just us, that it would always be us together. And now look at us…"

"This was not a decision I made for myself," Mical corrected her, speaking very slowly so that his words would sink in. "If I'd had my way, we would still be together."

"Why aren't we?"

"That is something you will have to figure out for yourself," he said sharply. He was getting tired of filling in all the gaps in her memory, especially all the painful ones that only he could supply.

She stepped dangerously close, and Mical breathed of her enticing smell. He wanted to move himself out of the situation, but he found he didn't have the courage when it came down to it.

"I am sorry," she began slowly, "for what I did to you. I know you didn't deserve it, and I—"

Against his better judgment, Mical silenced her with a deep kiss, both his hands seeking her jaw line to pull her face toward him so that their tongues could dance together and taste of the velvety richness of each other's mouths. He threw aside the shirt he had still been clutching in one hand and allowed his arms to take her waist, pulling her toward him. Carina deepened the kiss, her hands threading through his mussed blonde hair as they continued the sensuous mating of their tongues.

A loud and deliberate clearing of the throat notified them that they were no longer alone in the room. As they broke apart, two figures were relaxed against the doorframe. Mical silently cursed Trentyn and Atton's lack of timing.

"Don't let us interrupt you," Tren said cockily, throwing his shirt over one shoulder to expose his impressively ripped body. He had obviously just returned—a tad bit too early—from the 'fresher. Just in time to find Carina in the arms of Mical again.

"You can use the bed if you want to; we won't disturb you. Just try to keep it down, okay? I need some sleep," Atton chimed in, a sneer permanently plastered on his face.

"I was just going," Carina said, pushing past them with her head down, supremely embarrassed. As she left, Tren looked after her. He couldn't keep his eyes from staring at her derriere.

As he entered the room, he used his shirt like a slingshot to slap Mical across the chest.

"Nice going there, Mikey. Looks like you two patched things up already."

Atton proceeded to get undressed and climb under the covers of the makeshift cot in the far corner of the room.

"Trust me, bro, once you've reconciled, it doesn't get any easier from there," Atton replied.

"You speak from experience?" Mical said in annoyance.

"Always."

-----------

Rani had just finished brushing her hair, changing into her nightdress, and washing up in the 'fresher when she had noticed a line was quickly building outside the door and reluctantly vacated her spot to Tren and Atton. They had been snickering about something she initially dismissed as just banter. On closer inspection, though, her ears caught a strand of what they were saying.

"Boy, now that Mikey's shacking up with Carina, we'll probably never see him again."

Atton had stripped down for the night to a simple tunic and trousers, and he had one arm balanced against the wall for support.

"You can say that again. I bet they're going to be playing _doctor_ a whole lot more…"

The remark seemed to taunt Tren as a whole host of improper images filtered into his mind.

"Who can blame him? I wouldn't mind getting a piece of that sweet a$$ myself."

Rani loudly cleared her throat to make her presence known. Tren and Atton immediately turned to look at the woman who wore a look of disapproval on her face.

"Excuse me, boys, but I'd prefer it if you didn't eye my friend like a piece of meat."

"Hey, Sis, don't you have somewhere to be? It's past your bedtime."

Rani hit him with the balled up wad of clothing she had been clutching in her right hand. Tren flinched ever so slightly.

"Stop it. You two play nice, okay? Carina's been through a lot, and she deserves our sympathy."

"Oh, I can give her all the sympathy she wants," Tren proclaimed.

"Trentyn Taraster!" Rani snapped, the sound of his full name enough to invoke a sense of healthy fear in him. She had often used this name whenever he was acting up, and it always worked to assert her authority over him…for at least a time. "Get a grip!"

"Fine, okay. Sheesh, Sis, you're so touchy lately."

Atton resisted throwing in a smart remark, realizing that the flushed look on Rani's face indicated she meant business. He instead grasped the arm of his friend and nudged him away from the 'fresher door.

"Come on, Tren, let's head off to bed."

After they departed, Rani made small adjustments to her appearance and decided to do a bit of exploring. The abode was not very big; in fact, she practically brushed shoulders when passing Dustil on the way back from the 'fresher. The passage was cramped and invoked feelings of claustrophobia in her.

As Rani rounded a corner of the passageway, she heard two low voices speaking in hushed tones. She quickly chose a hiding spot so she could eavesdrop upon the conversation. Normally, she would not have cared, but it was the direness of their situation which led her to this behavior. Cyrus was too crafty for them to overlook their own suspicions.

"Have you any news?" she recognized Geriel's voice as saying.

A feminine voice chimed in with, "A Sith flagship was spotted entering interstellar space around Tatooine, and it is reported they have set a trajectory for us. What business would the Sith have on Nar Shaddaa? This planet already has been touched enough by evil."

"What business indeed?" Geriel said without explanation. "Regardless, I would like you to keep me apprised of all their comings and goings. I want to know who's aboard their ship, what they plan to accomplish here, where they're next headed…"

"How do I do that?"

"The usual. Dole out a couple of bribes. Use your feminine wiles on the soldiers. I don't care how you do it. Just tell me what I want to know."

He delved into his pocket and produced a few credits, which the woman grubbily plucked from his palm.

"A little something for your troubles. Succeed and you will get more."

"Yes, of course," she said, unapologetically testing the credits for authenticity. When she was sure she hadn't been duped, she excused herself from Geriel's presence and hobbled back through the door and out into the Refugee Sector.

As Geriel went about straightening up the main room of his abode, Rani held a hand over her mouth to prevent against any sudden intake of breath that would betray her presence. She tiptoed away from the scene, storing the knowledge in her mind to mull over at a later time. For now, bed was calling. Though she wasn't savoring the thought of sleeping on a hard floor, it was better than the bumping and grinding rhythm produced by the _Blade_'s temperamental engines.

She passed by the men's room on the way to their quarters, and something made her pause. She barely had a moment to digest all that had happened over the course of the past few hours, since they had gone from one battle straight into the thick of another. Carth's proposal left her with a feeling of giddy light-headedness, and she suddenly felt the desire to go talk to him about wedding preparations.

When she stepped into the darkened room, she found that most of the other men were fast asleep. Atton had staked out the corner for his own personal usage, and Tren was on a cot underneath his slightly upraised loft. Bao-Dur was curled up in the opposite corner, his back turned toward the door to indicate a desire for privacy. Dustil slept near his father, Carth, and Mical's back was propped up against a wall. Rani smiled. He was so used to sleeping with one eye open in his duty as a doctor, that he barely had time to allow himself a proper night's rest. Even Han had sought out a proper bed, but the doctor just seemed to enjoy sleeping in this manner.

Rani sidled up to Carth, who was either sleeping or doing a good job of pretending to . Because of the darkness, her visibility was limited, but she could just barely make out the soft lines of Carth's face. He looked incredibly relaxed, even peaceful, and she suddenly desired to share some of that peace for herself. She positioned herself over him, letting her waterfall of curls brush against his chest. As she lined up with his face, her lips found his and slowly woke them to life. When she felt Carth responding to her kiss, she said in a hushed whisper, "I had to come see you."

"This is not exactly a good time, beautiful," Carth said huskily, his voice sounding flustered. She noticed him sharply swivel his head around to assess each of his companions. They all looked to be in the throes of sleep if not completely sacked out.

"I just thought we should talk about the wedding." She added a hint of seductiveness to the tone so there was no doubt about her intentions in stalking into the men's room uninvited. Carth seemed to take the hint and said, "In the morning."

"Why not now?"

Her lips again found his and this time would not release them. Carth didn't seem to mind, however.

"You're very persuasive, you know that?"

"I try," she joked, a pretty smile lighting up her features. Carth held her close, the warm sensation of her skin upon his skin very enticing. Her dark hair cascaded sensuously over one shoulder into a bouffant of soft curls that kissed the curve of her breast. As she sat there, the thin nightgown revealing a half-nakedness that Carth realized could only be remedied by a few undone buttons, the Republic admiral allowed his eyes their feast of her body. Her long, shapely legs were on display underneath the very sheer chemise, and Carth was suddenly tempted to see more of where they led. He was momentarily alarmed, however, when his eyes settled upon several small burns he had never before seen on her body. He grasped her wrist with concern.

"What are these?"

Rani, embarrassed, tried desperately to cover up the stray burns not yet healed by Mical's treatments.

"Nothing."

"No, was this from Carina?" he said, grasping the one arm on which a notable amount of unsightly marks dotted her flesh.

"Cyrus," Rani corrected him. Although it had been her friend who had dealt the punishment, it was Cyrus' influence that had caused it. Rani placed any and all blame upon him for the shame she now suffered as a result of the scant few marks that formed the evidence of their skirmish. At least the next few medical treatments would forever rid her of her source of shame and embarrassment.

"He deserves to die for what he did to you," Carth said with vehemence. "And to Master Kavar. And to everyone else who stumbles into his little web."

"Let's not talk about Cyrus now," Rani said, her eyes glowing with tears. "We're getting married, Carth. It should be a time of celebration, not grieving."

"You're right," Carth said sheepishly, his brows wagging over his expressive brown eyes. "You know, sometimes I feel like a fool around you. You always manage to center me, Rani."

She seductively nibbled at his ear, her teeth pinching the skin ever so slightly to induce shivers in him. She let her tongue make a trail down the path of his neck, stopping briefly to flirt with the muscles of his stomach as she added, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"We can't," Carth said sternly, his gaze drifting to the young man who slept beside him. Dustil laid stock still, and Rani was sure he wasn't aware of pretty much anything other than his own dreams at this point. Growing bolder, she continued her exploration of Carth's near-perfect physique, letting her tongue trace the crevices within his abdomen. He elicited a deep groan, but Rani silenced him with another kiss. The others might be asleep, but that wouldn't last for long if they made their pleasure known through the various noises that were sure to follow.

She slowly began undressing his body, her tongue brushing a spot just underneath his solar plexus that made him moan and his body rock. He looked down at her dark, expressive eyes, the innocence within them contradicting the way her tongue was flirting with the muscles of his abdomen. He allowed his hand to tangle in the dark mass of her hair, guiding and manipulating her movements with fierce insistence. As Carth allowed her to take full mastery of him, she began to savor every minute of it.

Her explorations grew increasingly bolder. A few quick motions later, and Carth had ridded her of her nightgown and was holding her under the thick warmth of his blanket. His hands tenderly cupped her as they kissed, stroking the sensitive flesh as lovingly as he could manage.

Rani helped him slip out of the rest of his clothes so that only their bodies were touching under the blanket, transmitting heat and energy to one another. She felt his rigid arousal against her abdomen and welcomed him into her. They began a long, silent dance to ecstasy, careful to contain their pleasured moans as their bodies moved in concert together. The pace of his thrusts was slow at first, then he carefully applied more pressure and speed to make their movements frenzied, unpredictable. Rani rolled her hips in response to his, her body flowing with the exquisite movements. Her ecstasy was made complete when she received an outpouring of his love into her. Carth's body slumped with the effort it took to maintain his balance over her, and he laid his head against her chest. Rani slowly began stroking the errant hairs that covered his eyes back from his temples. His extreme satisfaction was evident in the expression he now wore.

"Speechless?" she whispered into his ear. His hands grasped the back of her head, pulling her toward him for another kiss.

"I'll say."

"Wait here," she said, a finger lingering over his pursed lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

She slipped out from under the covers to retrieve her nightgown, tossing it over her head quickly in case one of the other men awoke to find her there, naked and in the admiral's arms. She thought she heard the rustle of a head moving on a pillow once or twice, but she dismissed the thought as merely a figment of her imagination. When she was fully clothed, she brushed up against Carth and pressed her lips to his. They interlocked fingers.

"I know I haven't given you a ring yet, gorgeous…" Carth began, his voice regaining strength.

"Don't worry about it. I have you; that's enough."

"…But I did get you one on Telos," he said, and it was obvious he was just finishing his earlier statement. Rani's eyes immediately filled with glee.

"Are you serious?"

Carth smiled, his whiskers scraping her cheeks as she leaned in for another kiss.

"Would I lie?"

"I love you! And you are the most handsome pilot in the galaxy!"

"Was there ever any doubt?" Carth quipped.

As she enjoyed his relentless feast of her mouth, their tongues intermingling and waking her hormones to fierce life again, she became aware of the sound of someone stirring awake. She broke the kiss immediately, noticing the dark, mussed head of Dustil peeking up at her from the ground. His hair stuck up at odd ends, but he made no attempt to tame it as he focused his cold gaze upon her and relaxed his eyes.

"So, my father's going to marry you now?"

Rani was at a loss for words. She wondered how much of the conversation Dustil had heard and if he had been awake for the rest of the intimate moment they had shared. Somehow, the thought of Dustil listening in seemed to cheapen it.

"You talk to her with respect in your voice, Son," Carth replied.

Dustil's eyes immediately blazed with a fire that had first ignited during the wars, when Carth had lost him to the Sith. It frightened Rani to think that same young Sith soldier—the one who stood by so ineffectually while Destrik exerted his terrible influence over her—might still exist somewhere under Dustil's tough exterior.

"Or what?" the angry young man challenged. "You'll subject me to another round of fucking? No thanks."

Rani blushed crimson.

"Watch your mouth," Carth said, an accusatory finger poking in his son's chest now that the young man had risen to his height. The slight ruckus was causing the others to stir, and Rani suddenly felt the need to get away and preserve her dignity as best she could.

"It's nice to see you got over Mother so easily with Rani. Put the bad dreams to rest at last."

"_Got over her_?" Carth practically yelled. "Dustil, your mother—I never got over her. She will always hold a special place in my heart. Rani is…different."

Dustil's lips pursed sarcastically as he rolled his head in a nod. "Let me guess…younger, more spry, better in the sack? All good reasons for marriage, Father."

"You talk like that again and I'll smack you."

"On your knee, old man?"

"Stop it, Dustil, stop it!"

The young man ripped off the blanket he had been rolled up in, his hand grasping at something around his neck that no one had seen before. His hand retrieved a small, golden circle adorning a chain, and Rani gasped when she realized what it was: Master Destrik's last gift to her; her old engagement ring.

Dustil ripped the chain and cast it callously at them, bouncing it off the durasteel floor with a metallic clang. Rani dove to retrieve it, which she did. She unfolded her palm and studied the intricate filigree designs and the unique shape of the Telosian sapphire adorning its center. It brought up so many painful memories she was hesitant to return to. And she was especially hurt that Dustil—whom she had spied with Igrayne in a romantic clinch—would betray the unspoken understanding that had developed between them of don't-ask, don't-tell.

"Where did you get this?" she queried the young man.

"You're not the only one who mourned his loss," Dustil said, standing solitary and alone in the center of the room as he clutched the blanket at his side. "Master Destrik was like a father to me…A _true_ father." As he said this, his eyes sought out Carth's. "He took me under his wing and groomed me to be his 'heir.' He said I had potential and that one day I would come into my own under his guidance. So you see, Father, it is possible to honor the past instead of forgetting entirely about where your loyalties used to lay. Although I haven't forgotten about Destrik, you seem quite content to have forgotten about Mother."

He moved uncomfortably close to Rani, and the woman backed away to give him enough space to brood if necessary. "It was all I had left of him," Dustil explained, "after he died. It comforted me. Maybe it will do the same for you."

Without saying another word, Dustil took his blanket and bedding and exited the room to go find a private place to sleep and sulk about the latest developments between his father and Rani. He hadn't approved of their relationship from the beginning, but he had serious doubts about the topic of marriage ever coming up between them.

After watching Dustil leave, Rani held up a hand to Carth's shoulder, but it was obvious the man needed time to think things over. His son's words were obviously affecting him. Rani never felt more helpless than at this moment.

"Carth, is there anything I can do?"

"No, you get some sleep," he said, summoning a bit of false courage. Rani took it as her cue to leave, so she gave him another kiss before traveling the short distance to the women's quarters. When she arrived, most all of her companions were asleep, except for Indy who sat in one corner fidgeting with what looked like a clay artifact_._ Rani entered the small quarters designated for their use and plopped down on a nearby mat.

"What the hell was the commotion all about?"

"Nothing, really," Rani said with a penitent smile, slipping into her bed. She didn't really want to discuss the matter with Indy, especially this late at night, and there was no doubt that all the arguing would draw more unwanted attention to Geriel's abode.

As Rani lay there pretending to sleep, Indy noticed something shining in her palm. Through her slightly uncurled fingers, she could make out the distinctive shape of the Telosian sapphire she had long been searching for. The only problem was getting it out of the other woman's iron grip, which really wasn't a problem at all once Indy put her ingenuity to the test.

_Bingo_, the smuggler thought with wicked anticipation. _Payday at last_.

Indy gingerly put down the clay artifact that she had been exhaustively studying. For weeks she had known that it was a Sith holocron since Han's old boss had wanted it so badly. Something was telling Indy Pollard the holocron would reveal the answers to their burning questions.

She didn't have to pick up the artifact and stare at the oddly-shaped indentation underneath its pyramidal shape to ensure that the stone on the ring in Rani's hand would fit inside of it perfectly. Indy had flirted with the notion that there was some sort of "key" for it, but she couldn't figure out why the holocron would need to be protected like that.

Indy allowed her mind to mull over all of her thoughts as she tried to contain her excitement. It was the indelible reaction she always had when she getting close to an archeological discovery. But she'd have to control her emotions and clear her mind if she wanted to wrest the ring from Rani's grasp. Indy knew she could just explain the situation to the other woman and ask her if she could use the ring, but Indy wanted the open the holocron by herself…it was an archeologist thing.

Indy cuddled into her blankets, her eyes focused on Rani's still form near her. The smuggler could tell that she wasn't truly asleep yet, but with all the events of the past few days, none of them had gotten much sleep. With an uncommon display of patience, Indy waited for at least an hour, maybe more, for the deep, regular breaths that indicated Rani was fast asleep.

Once she was sure her companions were all in dreamland, Indy slowly shifted herself out of her cocoon of blankets and got on her hands and knees on the steel floor. Normally, Indy would have felt ridiculous in such a situation, but the excitement of her discovery made nothing important but gaining possession of the strange ring. Her knees ached from their contact with the hard floor, but she shuffled along the short distance to Rani's mat.

The curly-haired woman was lying on her side, her back to Indy, and her fingers gently unfurled, the ring glinting in her palm like nectar in a blooming blossom. Indy reached over the other woman, careful not to disturb her, as she tried to pluck the ring from Rani's hands, avoiding her relaxed fingers.

Indy had managed to get her own tensed fingers near the ring in the cage of Rani's hand, when suddenly, Evy let out a loud snore. Indy grimaced but didn't move her body, hoping that the boisterous sound had not woken anyone up. Luckily, Evy shifted and then quieted down. Indy took that as her sign to get the job done as soon as she could, so she grasped the oddly-shaped sapphire with her thumb and forefinger and yanked the ring from Rani's hand in one swift movement.

Cackling to herself in her mind, Indy shuffled back to her own mat, shoved the artifact in her pocket, and exited the room. With the ring almost tingling in her hand, Indy made her way to the common room, where it was dark, quiet, and empty. It was as good a place as any, so she pulled the artifact from her pocket, the sandpaper texture of the clay scraping her hand. With her heart beating excitedly in her chest, Indy threaded her forefinger through the hole of the ring. It was too small to fit over her bigger knuckle, but she hadn't meant to put it on anyway. She turned over the artifact to the square surface of the bottom plane of the pyramid and inserted the stone into the lone groove. The stone slid into the furrow and then made a faint clicking sound, fitting perfectly…but nothing happened.

Her brows knitting together in frustration, Indy wriggled the ring back and forth, trying to pull it back out, when the ring suddenly swiveled a full 180 degrees. A faint whirring sounded from inside the clay, and Indy held her breath, turning the artifact so that the tip of the pyramid was pointing toward her face. The pyramid opened up like the mouth of a weary monster, each of the four sides cracking open and falling back.

There, inside the shell of clay, lay a crystal, also in a pyramidal shape. Indy's fingers found the deep violet holocron, and she pulled it out and sat it on the table in front of her. She stared at it for a while, as she had never actually had her hands on a holocron before this one. The internal technology showed through the translucent crystal, where Indy knew the appearance and the cognitive networks of the holocron's owner was stored.

She ran her finger along the bottom edge of it, where Sith words were etched into the surface. It read, "My time here is ended, but my words shall live on," when translated into Basic. Indy turned the pyramid to read the next three sides.

"Those who use the dark side are also bound to serve it."

"There can be no compromise, for those who wish to wear the mantle of the dark lord."

"My last gift to you…"

The inscription on the last side confused Indy. It seemed out of place, almost benevolent in a sea of harsh words. She read aloud the words in the language of the Sith, and when she was finished, the very tip of the pyramid began to glow. Indy stared at it, backing up a few steps and noticing the glow intensify.

A specter appeared above the holocron, life-sized, its body fading out at its waist. The colors of the image became more vivid, though it was still transparent enough that Indy could still see the wall behind it. Her hand unwittingly rose to her open mouth as she recognized the figure before her.

"Oh, Force…" she whispered

The image of Lord Destrik was before her. He must have had the holocron made at the pinnacle of his power and his dark reign, because his skin was grayed and streaked with blue veins. His eyes glowed red as if a fire burned behind them.

"Rheya Pollard…I had counted on your curiosity."

Indy gaped at the specter as she tried to come to grips with the ramifications of the situation. The image merely floated there, still, and waiting for her prompt.

Indy found her voice. "Why did you make a holocron?"

"Throughout my reign as the dark master of the Sith," he began, almost proudly, "my concerns were not only resurrecting great Sith lords of the past; I searched for other ways to make my takeover of the galaxy complete."

"Such as?" Indy asked, her initial fear giving way to interest.

"There were rumors that a special mineral could produce energy shields of incredible strength. I spent time searching for more information, as such shields would make my ships invincible, and I even found out which planet had the conditions most likely to facilitate the production of these minerals under its surface. I made plans, but I never got around to mining the planet."

"Which planet?" Indy asked, the wheels of cognition turning wildly in her mind.

Destrik smiled, baring sharp, pointy teeth. "Telos IV."

Indy paused in her questioning of the specter. Was Czerka's fight for control of Telos' Restoration Project just a means to gain access to the planet for mining?

"You still didn't answer my question—why make a holocron with this information?"

"Why, didn't you read the words? It's my final gift to you," his overwhelming arrogance even came through in his holocron.

Indy scoffed. "I find _that_ hard to believe."

"During my reign, I often felt a threat arising in the ranks of the Sith. I believe it was from a rogue Sith, one who was building up his own plans for galactic domination. His presence was quiet, sneaky, and I suspected that he needed an edge before he could attack the Republic openly. The shields could do more than give him an edge…"

"So what is this, a warning for us? Why do that?"

"Yes, it is a warning. If I or my apprentice, Dustil, could not take over the galaxy, well then I would rather have the floundering Republic in control than some feeble and furtive Sith."

Indy sat down heavily on a mat. Han had been right; the Sith were behind the whole thing. Czerka and the Exchange had merely become puppet organizations for the use of the Sith agenda. Now that they were not on Citadel Station to get in Czerka's way, the organization was probably already mining the precious mineral on Telos. They had to stop it before the Sith were able to make these fearsome shields for their spacecraft.

"That's enough for now," Indy said, not even looking at the glowing specter.

In a matter of a few minutes, her mood had gone from elation to dread. She thought about how Destrik must have made sure the artifact was placed where Indy would be sure to find it, how the key to reveal the holocron inside was the engagement ring he'd given Rani, how he'd known either Rani or Dustil would have it, and that the crew would undoubtedly be thrown back together as tragedy struck. It almost made her sick to ponder the immense insight the dead Sith lord had. It was amazing that they'd been able to defeat him.

Indy finally looked up to find that Destrik's image had disappeared. She took the crystal into her hand and turned to head back to the guest room where the rest of the women slept. There, standing in the doorway, was Rani; her eyes seemed moist, though she wasn't crying.

"Uh…you want your ring back?" Indy offered.

Rani didn't say anything, but she did walk past Indy to fiddle with the clay casket of the artifact. The ring slid out of the groove easily into her hands, where she then handed the opened clay pyramid to Indy.

"How much of that did you see?" Indy asked.

"All of it," Rani answered, avoiding the other woman's eyes.

"Looks like we're in more trouble than we thought," Indy offered, feeling awkward.

"At least we know why we're in so much trouble now," Rani answered, clutching the ring in her palm.

"We need to do something about Czerka on Telos…we need to stop them." Indy said, feeling her trepidation build as she voiced her concerns to Rani.

"We definitely need to get the _Blade_ fixed and get off this planet." Rani said with a shiver.

"Yeah, before the Exchange, Cyrus, or those psycho bounty hunters catch up to us."

"It gets worse," Rani said.

"How could it be any worse?" Indy asked, pulling her fedora over her face in frustration.

"I overheard an informant of Geriel's telling him that a Sith ship left Tatooine and is heading here," Rani revealed.

"Frackin' Sithspawn!" Indy cursed.

"Let's just go to bed," Rani said, her face blank. "We'll tell the others in the morning."

Indy nodded, and the two women went back to their sleeping mats, though neither slept the rest of the night.


	22. The Heroes Hatch a Plan

In the morning, the women awoke to find pandemonium in the common room of Geriel's abode. While the older refugee struggled with making a quick breakfast for the heroes to eat, Carth was on the commlink, sending a transmission to Vrook and Bastila to update them on their current situation. The Republic admiral, irritable at having not gotten enough sleep the night before, paced the room while unsuccessfully trying to get a signal.

Evy awoke and claimed the shower first, nearly bolting headfirst into Trinn, who was turning around the corner the minute the blonde woman spotted the 'fresher door fly open.

"Hey, watch it, will you?" Trinn said, the feminine muscles that defined her arms rippling slightly in response to the near-crash. Evy made her apologies and locked herself in the 'fresher. Though the facility was full of hot steam from the previous occupant's stay, she merely breathed it in and let it fill her lungs. It would be so good to finally have a shower. And though Geriel's facilities weren't anything to cheer about, they certainly were far better than the cramped 'fresher onboard the ship.

Evy unbound her hair from the tight braid, loosening it over her shoulders as she gaped into the mirror and studied the reflection. She hadn't gotten much sleep, that was for sure; dark circles underscored her usually vibrant green eyes, and if that wasn't enough, a long yawn seemed to confirm her sleepiness.

Her cumbersome clothing and armor was designed so that she could remove it within seconds. The shirt came off first, then the standard-issue pants and the military-style boots with it. She dropped them on the small cavity of space beside the sink. Then she walked into the shower and proceeded to remove the grime of the last day, ridding her mind of all unwanted thoughts.

The sonic shower issued a steady pulse of hot water in short, quick bursts that assaulted her back. Evy just stood there, both hands braced against the wall, enjoying the feeling of the water dripping down her body. Though the shower gave her time to think, she steadfastly refused to contemplate the possibility that she might have to explain to Atton the reason she had been able to heal Trentyn when his life had been endangered.

She couldn't make sense of it herself. The blaster wound in his chest should have been fatal, yet she had reached out to him and called upon her dormant Force powers to preserve his life. The only other time she had been able to summon those powers at will was when Atton's life depended on it—and then, she had been in love with him.

_I'm not in love with Tren_, she silently reminded herself, recalling all the reasons why this was so. His senseless name-calling, lustful ogling, shameless flirting… Evy could think of a surplus of reasons why she had resisted the overtures he continually made to her. Yet there was a softer side to Tren, one she had seen while onboard Caine and Cody's ship when he had fearlessly attempted to protect her.

_I'm being a fool_, Evy told herself. _Tren's like a brother to me. An annoying, immature younger brother. There's no way I have feelings for him_. Satisfied with her conclusion, she continued washing herself under the warm blasts of water, too afraid to ponder the matter further.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of the door sliding open. As the shadow of a figure glided into the room unceremoniously, Evy could make out through the fogged-up door of the shower as the figure leaned against the wall. She let out a shriek and grabbed for something to cover herself with, but it was no use; she had left all her clothes by the sink.

"Well, if you ain't a sight for sore eyes…" the masculine voice drawled. Evy relaxed for a moment, realizing it was just Atton.

_Well, nothing he hasn't seen before…_

"Don't you knock?" she said in annoyance.

The figure just behind the curtain of glass moved a little closer. She could actually make out his facial features, and they wore a mix of amusement and lust.

"Do you mind?" she said, struggling to cover up as she pressed her back against the cool wall of the shower. The figure merely smiled in response.

"Not at all. Do you?"

"Atton, I'm trying to shower here!"

"So this isn't a good time to talk?"

"Force, about what?!" she said, groaning in response. "I thought you and Tren were perpetually attached at the hip."

Atton touched his palm to the glass partition, letting the flesh make an imprint on the canvas of steam coating its surface. His face followed suit, and Evy giggled at the way his forehead stretched across the glass.

"If this is an attempt to seduce me, then you're doing a pretty bad job of it!" Evy said, grimacing.

"What, you mean the sexy look doesn't work for me? I'm shocked. Really."

Atton backed away from the glass and proceeded to peel off his ribbed leather jacket and place it on the sink beside her discarded clothes. He tugged at his white shirt, which came off over his head with surprising ease.

"Wha…what are you doing?" Evy stammered, feeling alarm grip her again.

"Joining you. I could use a dip in the 'fresher."

"Oh no you're not! Rand, don't even think about it! Why, I'll—"

Evy halted mid-threat because her breath caught in her throat. Atton had reached his pants and was unbuttoning them, and she couldn't bear to tear her eyes away from the glorious sight. As he dipped down, releasing the crude modified utility belt from his waist, her eyes settled on his toned tummy, which bore a smattering of dark, coarse hair. Her eyes followed the trail down to the prize at the end of the maze as he stepped out of his pants and folded them, placing them beside the sink.

He approached the door and sidled inside. Evy, who was still partially in shock, had her back pressed to the wall, rivulets of water rippling down her tiny frame. As Atton approached her, all protests left her lips. She couldn't take her eyes off his perfect physique, so Atton merely said, "Have I got your attention now, sweets?"

"Fully," she said, her voice croaking slightly as he advanced on her. She slid further into the corner, but she had nowhere to go. Atton continued to stalk closer, and when they were face to face, he put both arms on either side of her head.

"Are you afraid of me?" he whispered, a slight lisp marking his speech. It was one of those endearing idiosyncrasies that Evy loved about him, along with his penchant for verbal sparring and his lack of hygienic habits.

"So, you're in the shower now. Isn't this, like, a _first_ for you?" Evy teased. As Atton leaned his face forward, just barely brushing her lips, he replied, "I'm dirty. I need washing."

Her hand strayed forward, growing bold enough to land on the cavity in the center of his chest. She began a rubbing motion, using the soap she had leftover in her one hand to massage his skin. His hand grasped her wrist tightly, guiding her movements lower. Evy exhaled slightly.

"Atton…"

A loud banging on the door sounded. Startled by the noise, Atton jerked backward, nearly whipping his head into Evy. She lost her footing on the slippery ground of the showers, but Atton caught her just in time to prevent her from crashing down.

"You okay?"

"I think so."

The banging grew louder. Atton hopped out of the shower with as much zest as he had gotten in. He grabbed a towel, quickly wrapped it around his midsection, and keyed the pad to open the door. Tren stood on the other side. He peeked into the tiny room as he said, "Standing room only?"

"Get out of here," Atton said, swinging a fist at the other man, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"Carth wanted me to tell you to hurry up and finish your shower; he's already contacted a mechanic down by the landing pad, who will take a look at the ship. We're going to head there after breakfast and see how much repairs will cost."

Tren's eyes strayed downward for a moment.

"So it looks like things are on the up and up…so far."

Atton used his fist to negotiate the other man out the door.

"Get out of here! And don't come back!"

"Geez, all right, brother! Just relaying the happy news."

Tren grinned lecherously once at the shower door before leaving. When the door finally slid shut, Evy removed herself from the 'fresher and found a towel to dry off on. Atton's disappointment was painted all over his face.

"Leaving already?"

"I'm clean enough." Evy quickly slid into the clothes she had just changed out of. She was looking forward to hitting Nar Shaddaa's shopping district for some more clothes; the ones she had been wearing for a few weeks straight were really starting to smell. Perhaps if they had enough money, Carth would let the women venture out, unaccompanied, into the shopping district to pick out some new outfits while the men stayed with the ship and brokered an arrangement for the ship's repairs.

"Suit yourself. You don't know what you're missing," Atton said, his hand brushing her behind as she slid past him and stepped into the crowded corridor of the safe house. As she walked toward the common room, she silently cursed her rotten luck. Tren had, once again, inserted himself into her realm of thought and disturbed her pleasant thoughts of Atton.

-----------

After breakfast, the crew headed out to the docks where the _Centurion's Blade_ was anchored. The ship was in pretty bad condition after the run-in with Caine and Cody and the third assailant. Indy practically let out a cry of horror as she ran up to the ship and rested her head against it. Han had to pry her away from it—albeit with a loud protest—in order for them to negotiate the price of repairs with the dock master, Quello.

The stout, blue-skinned Toydarian flapped his wings about excitedly, trying to haggle for a suitable price before introducing the fact that they owed extra expenses due to the _Blade_'s overnight stay on one of his premier landing pads. Though the creature owned a shop filled with a treasure trove of discarded machinery and spare parts, he dealt in the only currency understood by most races—money.

"Five thousand credits," the creature croaked, "for last night; another ten for the rest of the week."

"Fifteen thousand credits? You're out of your mind," Carth hissed. He turned immediately to Rani, who was staring at him in astonishment. "We don't have that kind of money. What are we going to do?"

"No money, no dice," Quello said in broken Basic, pummeling both fists at his sides.

"I'm sure we can think of something, Carth."

"Let me—_handle_—this one," Atton said with confidence, pushing a hand against Carth's chest. The Republic admiral merely stared with disgust at the smuggler's hand, which pressed right below his solar plexus.

"Sorry," Atton said, retracting the errant hand. "Look, I've dealt with scumbags much worse than this one. It'll be a cinch."

Quello, whose auditory senses were exceptional, merely shot back, sounding irritated, "Scumbag? Flattery won't do you any favors, outlander!"

The scoundrel continued to ignore the irate, money-hungry little creature.

"Let me have a shot at it; I can talk him down."

"If you think it will help…"

"Oh, I do. Just watch and learn."

Carth grinned, fully expecting Atton to fail. Rani elbowed him, knowing exactly what he was thinking. When their eyes met, she berated him with a look of anger.

Atton slicked back his hair and moved toward Quello, adopting a classic casual stance and winning smile.

"Look, buddy, I don't think you heard my friend here. Fifteen thousand credits—why, that would buy a plum apartment in some fancy-schmancy Coruscant high-rise, but here? In Nar Shaddaa? Not so much."

"Well, you're not on Coruscant, are you?" the greedy creature chuckled.

"Point taken." Atton tried Plan B instead. "You see this young woman here?"

His hand grasped Rani's arm and plucked her away from the admiral with a screech. He held her close, cradling her head against his chest.

"She's dreadfully ill; that's why we put down in Nar Shaddaa. If she doesn't get to the medical facility in time, well…the consequences could be dire. And every minute we waste here, dilly-dallying about unimportant things like the price of a ship's repairs, is one minute less we have to devote to restoring her to health. Now do you read me?"

Quello came face to face with Rani, studying her intently. After a few moments of silent inspection, the little creature rammed his fist through the air to indicate he hadn't bought the smuggler's story.

"What do you think I am? A fool? I can see for myself she's perfectly well!"

"She does look healthy, doesn't she? That's what makes _amnioflurocytitis_ all the more insidious. Right, Evy?"

The nurse scratched her head cluelessly.

"I don't know, Atton. I've never heard of _amn_…OW!"

Evy elicited a shriek of pain as Atton's boot landed unceremoniously on her toes to silence her. Quello merely narrowed his eyes in response and wagged a finger in the scoundrel's face.

"Fifteen thousand or zippo, buddy!"

"Hey, I'm not your buddy!" Atton said. He angled his body forward as if to lunge toward the little creature, but was prevented from doing this by Evy's stabilizing hand on his back. The scoundrel let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. I'm all out of ideas."

Atton extended a dramatic gesture toward Carth.

"All yours, Admiral."

With a sigh, Carth rolled his eyes. "I am in awe of your bartering skills."

At that moment, Bao-Dur moved silently to the front of the group, a hydrospanner tucked in his back pocket. Igrayne studied the messy, oily cloth sticking out of his back pocket, where the hydrospanner was. Bao-Dur had spent most of his time onboard the ship immersing himself in his repairs, whatever they were…

"Friend," the Zabrak said quietly, "I have studied the extent of the damage this ship has taken, and it is not worth the price you are asking. Apart from the damage sustained by the hyperdrive, the ion engine, and the deflector shield generator, there isn't much to repair. Now, a fair assessment of the damage would be around ten thousand credits, not fifteen, as you would have us believe. And we are willing to offer you that in good confidence when we raise the entire sum."

Quello stroked his chin thoughtfully, silently cursing the fact that the Zabrak seemed to be beating him at his own game. The fact that he knew about the ship's parts was certainly advantageous in this situation.

"I need some kind of insurance that I will get it…other than your _good confidence_."

"We will give you collateral of five hundred credits," the Zabrak negotiated politely. Carth grasped his well-muscled arm and pulled him near enough to whisper, "What are you doing? That's all we have! We'll need it to buy supplies."

"I know what I am doing," Bao merely said softly. "Geriel has promised us a small sum for the things we will need. And this creature will not allow for anything below five hundred. I can feel it."

"I hope you are right."

Quello was still pondering the offer. Finally, he nodded, though it was with great reluctance.

"Five hundred it is. I fully expect the ten thousand, though."

"And you will get it," Bao-Dur promised with a definite nod.

"You drive a hard bargain." Quello grinned as Carth dipped into his pocket and removed the credits, handing them over to the gleeful Toydarian, who grubbily pocketed the credits.

---------------

Back in the safe house, Carth, Atton, Tren, Han, Mithic, and Mical were sitting cross-legged around a set of mats that were grouped around in a circle. After Bao-Dur had negotiated the price for the ship with Quello, Tren whined about the fact that he hadn't attempted to lower the price or at least cut it in half, to which the quiet Zabrak merely replied that it went against his principles to try and cheat another sentient out of a fair price.

"So, I mean, what are we going to do?" Atton replied. "We gave five hundred down on that old hunk of scrap—"

"Hey!" Han said, bristling with indignation.

"Oh, uh, sorry."

"I don't know," Carth said, running a hand through his red-brown hair in frustration. They had spent the past hour going around and around about the subject to no avail. Not one of them could come up with a plausible scenario for earning ten thousand credits fast.

"We could head out to the cantina and try our luck at a hand of cards, I guess," Atton suggested.

"You mean you could try your hand at losing a game of cards?" Mical quickly corrected him.

"Hey!"

"Kid's got a point," Han Solo interrupted, immediately quelling the fracas threatening to boil over between the irritated scoundrel and doctor. He rested one arm over his knee in a relaxed position, sweeping the stray hairs off his forehead. "I used to be quite the card shark in my day. Give me a Sabacc deck and a worthy opponent, and I'll be willing to give it a go."

"Ten thousand credits," Carth repeated. "There's no way we can raise that kind of capital from a card game unless we're playing at the high stakes table. And even then, we've got nothing to bet."

"I heard the Zabrak saying something about Geriel lending us some money," Atton said.

"Now listen, I think we've trespassed on his hospitality long enough…"

"Just think about it. We borrow one hundred, maybe two, from Geriel, put it to good use at the gaming tables in the cantina, triple, quadruple our earnings. In a few hours, we should have what we need."

"You seem very cocky about your skills with a card deck," Carth noted.

"Not cocky…confident."

"I've seen the man play," Mithic interrupted, "and he's a good opponent. A little short-sighted, but good."

"Hey, who you calling short-sighted? Why, I oughta…"

Just as Atton's palm balled into a fist, Mical put a hand on his shoulder and forcibly seated him.

"Not now, Atton. This is no time to quarrel."

"Look, genius, I wasn't the one who gave the rest of our life savings over to that little twerp Toydarian," Atton said. "Maybe if the Zabrak hadn't been so free with the credits, we wouldn't be strapped for cash!"

"He was doing what was best for us at the time," Carth said, trying to understand where Bao-Dur had been coming from. In truth, he was slightly miffed that the Zabrak had brokered a deal that resulted in their having to resort to playing cards as a way of making credits. He understood that the alien was well-intentioned, however, and he trusted his judgment in the long run. But trying to find a way out of their quandary was irritating him.

"We could w*ore ourselves out, you know, to the local ladies who want to see what a specimen of male beauty really is," Tren added. All he received were cold stares in response to the attempted joke. "Hey, guys, come on. I wasn't serious. I think Atton's got a point. What other alternative do we have?"

While they were discussing their options, Mithic felt very faraway from the conversation. His attention was entirely focused on something else—the feeling of dread that encompassed his entire being, spawned from some unknown source. With each minute that passed, the dread and trepidation grew to a thundering climax inside of him, threatening to unleash fury at any minute. Mithic cradled his head in his hands, desperate to try and use the Force to will the emotions away. He knew somehow that his Force senses were an indicator of Eklipse's presumed presence on the planet.

"What's with Mithic?" a male voice beside him said. "John, are you all right?"

Two hands caught him by the shoulders and shook him. From the brutish grip on his body, Mithic could deduce it was Carth who was holding him, struggling to wake him from the imposed stasis. His emotions had had a paralytic effect on his physical movements, and Mithic found that all he could do was breathe.

"Mical, you should take a look at him. Quick!"

Mithic changed hands into the care of Mical, who could find no physical symptoms of his sickness. After a few moments, the emotional turmoil resided, and Mithic found his head fully clear again. Freed from the invisible grip on his body, he sat up and rubbed a spot on his head.

"I feel…strange."

"What happened?" Mical asked, balancing in front of him as he examined his face.

"I…" Mithic was hesitant to explain to them the full history between himself and the Sith lord, so he simply supplied them with an answer that would suffice for the moment: "It was a stitch in my gut. Sometimes I get them. They go away very quickly."

The others seemed satisfied with this response, but not Carth. Though the admiral said nothing, Mithic knew Carth was probably making a mental note to talk to him later about what had just happened. It was just as well; there were things he needed to get off his chest. He had not been entirely honest and open with his commanding officer, and it was high time to tell him the truth.

"So, where were we?" Tren said, scanning his memory bank to pick up at the place where they had last left off. "Oh, yes. The cantina…"

"It could work," Atton offered.

"Yes," Carth agreed. "It's—as you said—our best bet. I will ask Geriel for a small sum of money, and we will pay him back when we are done."

"Carth?" a feminine voice interrupted. All of the men turned their attention momentarily to the woman who had crept up toward them without detection. Rani stood nearby, her hands folded neatly in front of her, a demure smile plastered on her lips.

"What is it, gorgeous? We're kind of busy here."

"I know, and if I may, I think I have a solution as to how to make the money."

"You do? Well, let's hear it!" Atton said enthusiastically.

Rani tucked a strand of dark hair over her ear, her dark eyes the only bright spot in a poorly-lit room.

"Well, I used to dance years ago, and I was thinking…"

"Absolutely not," Carth interrupted. "No fiancée of mine is going to be putting herself on display in a busy cantina full of oversexed sentients."

"Carth, please, just hear me out."

"This discussion is over."

Carth's proclamation annoyed Rani, and she felt her temper get the best of her as she responded, "No, it's not, you bantha-brain! I have something to say, and it demands to be heard!"

Atton and Tren exchanged dual glances.

"I used to be a pretty good dancer. Now, if I teach the other girls some of my moves, we just might be able to pull this off. Think of it—coupled with the winnings from the Pazaak table—we won't be able to lose. Like you said, many of the creatures who hang out in the cantina are—_desperate_ for female company. Let's play off that a bit, shall we?"

"Can I have a word with you?" Carth said, standing to his feet. Then, glancing around at all of the other men, he added, "_Alone_?"

He grabbed her by the arm and led her to a small alcove offshooting the main room. Rani wrenched her arm free of his grasp.

"What?" she demanded.

"I don't like this idea," Carth replied. "I don't like it one bit."

"Well, what am I going to do? Sit here while you go out there and kill yourselves for a couple of hours at the Pazaak table? I don't think so. This is a surefire way to get some extra capital, Carth. It'll work."

"Oh, I _bet_ it'll work."

"Don't you trust me?" she asked, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Oh, I trust you. It's just the others I don't trust. If you think I'm going to pat you on the back, give my approval, and send you out into the lion's den, you've got another thing coming, gorgeous."

"Carth, are you jealous?" Rani said, laughing as the realization of it sunk in.

"No, I'm just…worried."

"Well, you have nothing to worry about. If you want, you can stand nearby to watch over us. I'm sure no harm will come to us with you there."

"You're giving me a lot of credit," Carth said, and a hint of amusement returned to his voice. He looked away to avoid flat out chuckling.

"Please, Carth. This is the only way I know how to help you. Just let me do it."

After a few more moments of agonizing silence, Carth reluctantly complied. "Fine…I don't like it, but fine."

She kissed his cheek and set about going to gather together the other girls for a quick session on dance and cantina etiquette—as if there _was_ any in a dump like Nar Shaddaa.

Carth watched her leave, feeling frustrated with himself for having agreed to this whole inane plot. Still, it was better than anything the men had concocted in the past hour.

By this time, Dustil had wandered over toward the group and was busy being told the plan. As Carth climbed back toward them, he and his son locked eyes. There was still palpable tension there, but some of it had dissolved since the night before. Dustil, for the most part, seemed willing to help with the plan. Carth suspected he would do anything that would mean getting off this planet faster…

"Count me in," Dustil was saying, making a seat for himself alongside Tren. "I could use a drink."

"That's everyone, I believe. But what about Bao-Dur—is he coming with us?" Carth questioned.

When nobody else responded, Mical interrupted with, "I believe he said he was making some technical repairs. He seemed engrossed in his work when I last spoke with him. I can only assume he will be staying here at the safe house."

Carth could have sworn he heard "good riddance" muttered under Dustil's breath, but he dismissed it as a hallucination bred by lack of sleep.

"That's fine; we should have more than enough people."

"Now that that's settled, all that's left is the little matter of getting our Pazaak money from Geriel. And a little something extra," Tren announced.

"Extra? I don't understand," the flustered Republic admiral responded.

"You know, for the girls."

"For the girls how?"

"You know, Republic, for their skimpy outfits."

Carth just stared at him slack-jawed. Now he was beginning to have serious reservations about Rani's plan…and Tren's lecherous facial expression only seemed to confirm these reservations with renewed vigor.

"It's gonna be a _great_ night, isn't it?" Tren said enthusiastically.

----------------

"You've got to be kidding me…"

Trinn gave a laugh as she stared incredulously at Rani, who was standing before the rest of the women rather piously in their selected dorm room. The optimistic woman had just finished explaining her recently conceived plan to the rest of her friends, only to be met with a mix of reactions, ranging from doubt to satisfaction…and in Trinn and Indy's case, pure and utter horror.

"What, you don't think it will work?" she asked. A slight crease marked Rani's forehead as her eyebrows rose, the only sign of doubt upon her otherwise perfect face.

"Oh, we never said it wouldn't work," Indy said, joining in on the discussion. "But if you haven't noticed by now, I'm not really the kind of girl who puts on a skimpy dress and prances across a stage half-naked for the sole purpose of pleasing a crowd full of rabid men."

"I bet _Han _wouldn't object…"

Evy let the comment slip a bit louder than originally planned, issuing a series of quiet giggles from Carina and Igrayne. Indy swerved her head in Evy's direction with lighting speed, as her brown eyes narrowed at her.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing…"

Evy failed miserably at trying to conceal her grin and Indy opted to ignore the remark, but she allowed herself a few more seconds of giving the other women her best death-glare before continuing. Needless to say, the giggling immediately ceased.

"You can count me out," she said with finality, already making her way toward the door. "I'm going to see what the guys are up to."

"Me too," Trinn added as she pointed to her chest to give a bit of extra emphasis. "You girls do what you want, but I'm much more suited at a Pazaak table."

"Are you ladies sure?" Rani asked them, with an innocent expression upon her face. "I'm sure that with proper training, you'd both be great!"

Carina, Igrayne, and Evy exchanged glances, knowing completely well that Rani was pushing her luck. Trinn and Indy had never indulged much in activities of an overly feminine nature.

Trinn and Indy merely laughed boisterously at her before leaving the four remaining women to their meeting, but not before Indy said, "Have fun shaking your asses."

Rani sighed. "Well, you can't say I didn't try. I had a feeling they wouldn't want to be included anyway…"

She recovered from her slight disappointment quickly, shrugging it off and donning a pearly white grin.

"So, are the three of you still in?"

"I'm not much of a dancer," said Carina, "but you can count me in as long as you can teach me some moves and I don't end up flat on the floor. Anything for my friends…plus, it sounds like it could be a potential for fun!"

She smiled widely, noticing that Carina emitted the glow of her old self before she had fallen and the darkness had consumed her. It felt almost as if she had never been gone from their lives, and there was no doubt in Rani's mind that her dear friend was back for good.

"Thank you, Carina," she said sincerely. "I really appreciate it. And I promise, by the time we're done, you'll know more moves than you could ever imagine! What about you two?"

As Rani's eyes fell upon them, both Evy and Igrayne looked remarkably hesitant and suddenly rather uncomfortable, almost as if they were sitting upon a bed of needles. Igrayne spoke first, looking up at her friend from her seat on one of the cots.

"I'm not sure about this, Rani…I mean, I've never really danced before. At least not in public. I have no doubt that we'll find some way of making this work…I just don't know if I feel up to it."

Igrayne tried her best to conceal her true reasons for not wanting to participate. After all, she was pregnant with Bao's child and her health was constantly wavering. There was no guessing when or where she'd have another bout of nausea. Her vague response seemed to work, because nobody else seemed to notice anything uncharacteristic about her behavior. Or, at least if they did, they didn't openly show it.

Rani then turned to face Evy, anxious to know her opinion regarding their plan.

"All right. Evy? What are your thoughts on the matter?"

"I'm with Igrayne, I'm afraid," she said timidly as she absentmindedly fiddled with her blonde locks. "I can't dance to save my life. Or at least…I don't think I can. I've never really tried. But that's beside the point. We'd be in public, and I don't do so wonderfully in crowds…you know that. It's a good idea, don't get me wrong, but we'd be putting a lot on the line."

Igrayne nodded in agreement, adding to the opposition. "She's right. Even if we were to learn how to dance, we'd have to do a pretty decent job in order to earn enough credits to repair the ship. I don't know about you, but I'm not entirely confident in our dancing abilities. Do you truly think that you could train all of us to perform in such a constricted time span?"

"Hey, I can't dance for beans and I'm going to take a shot at this," Carina stated in defense of Rani. "I might be bloody awful for all I know, but I'm willing to try!"

Rani threw a meaningful glance at Carina, but she looked discontented due to Evy and Igrayne's lack of enthusiasm. She stood a little straighter, looking quite professional as she maintained a determined expression.

"Igrayne," she started, with a note of sympathy apparent in her tone, "I know that you are not well, but we need all of the extra help that we can get! Four women would be more balanced than two, and if you get tired, Carina and I could cover for you and compensate. You can be one of the background dancers, so basically it's very simple. All you'd have to do is sway back and forth a bit and look beautiful!"

Igrayne couldn't help but admire Rani's tenacious nature as their eyes met. While listening to her speak, one could clearly detect a sense of regal authority that had made her such a promising candidate as a senator. Perhaps giving into her better judgment, Igrayne released a sigh, finally giving in.

"Fine, I'm in. But on one condition."

Rani grinned, looking pleased. "Name it."

"No skimpy outfits for me, okay? I'll leave all of the flaunting up to you three."

The girls erupted into laughter as Igrayne gave a halfhearted smile. She was grateful that they saw her comment as humorous rather than suspicious.

"Oh, c'mon," Rani said, grinning from ear to ear. "You don't want to join us in some unadulterated flaunting?"

"Nah, I wouldn't want to steal the spotlight from you three vixens."

Her comment was met with another bout of laughter before Evy spoke up, apparently changing her mind.

"Well, now that I've been tag-teamed into joining you ladies, I guess I have no choice," Evy joked. "So, am I going to be a background dancer, too?"

Rani grinned mischievously, placing her index finger and thumb to her chin.

"Well, that's not exactly what I had in mind…"

Evy's fair eyebrows rose in alarm.

"Oh no…"

"This sounds great," Carina said excitedly. "I may not remember a lot, but I remember what it means when Rani gets that look in her eye. Pray tell!"

Evy crossed her arms, waiting for Rani's reply.

"Yeah, what exactly do you have in mind, _woman_?"

Rani took a deep breath, preparing for how Evy might react to her plans for her.

"We obviously have dancers, but cantina crowds these days are hard to impress when you base your performance solely on a handful of beautiful dancing women in skimpy outfits…believe me, I know. Sometimes, on top of all the flair, you've got to have a _voice_."

Evy paled a shade or two, catching Rani's drift as she rose from her seat on the floor.

"Wait, you want _me_ to _sing_? In front of all those people? No way! I hate it when people hear me sing!"

"Oh, come on, Evy! I've heard you sing and you are absolutely amazing!"

"I'm no singer," Evy said, shaking her head vigorously. "Believe me, I'd rather—wait a minute, when have you ever heard me sing?!"

All eyes fell upon Rani as her friends eyed her suspiciously. At the sudden attention placed upon her, she fidgeted slightly, considering whether or not she should tell Evy the truth.

"Well…I…uh…"

"Yeah?"

"I…"

"Spit it out already!"

"Fine! I overheard you singing in the shower with Atton while you were staying in our apartment on Coruscant!"

Carina stifled a laugh while Igrayne looked thoroughly amused by the discovery. If Evy had been pale, it no longer showed, as her face flushed a remarkable shade of red.

"Am I really that loud?" she asked timidly, once she had regained her ability to speak.

Igrayne answered for her. "Oh, yes, in all aspects of your life with Atton."

"Haha, very funny."

_You're one to talk._

Evy ignored the urge to reciprocate her friend's jest, looking to Rani for an answer.

"You do sing pretty loudly," Rani replied. "But that's perfect for us because you have a lovely voice! It could mean huge success at the cantina. Good, strong voices are hard to come by these days!"

"I can't do it; I just can't," Evy said, suddenly looking ill. "Singing in the shower is entirely different than being onstage in front of a crowd of people. And the acoustics aren't the same…my voice might not even carry...that is, if I don't die of stage-fright first!"

"Oh stop it; I know you'll be great! You need to have some confidence in yourself!"

Evy rolled her eyes, crossing her arms moodily.

"Easier said than done."

Rani placed her hands upon Evy's slumped shoulders in one final attempt at trying to sway her. Her deep brown eyes met Evy's green ones, looking at her meaningfully.

"Please, Evy…we need you to do this. I have total confidence that you can be a star on that stage if you put your mind to it. You just have to let go of your modesty and allow yourself to shine. And just think, it'll all be for the greater good of earning those credits!"

"And there's the added bonus of actually having some fun," Carina added. "We haven't been able to let loose in a while. I think it's long overdue."

"Yeah," Igrayne said. "Not to mention serenading your beloved scoundrel of a man. Right, Evy?"

Igrayne winked at her, drawing a smile from the blonde nurse. Evy hesitated for a few moments, glancing at the faces of the women with whom she'd been through countless ordeals. If she was going to do this for anyone, it would be for them.

Evy released a prolonged sigh, followed shortly by a coy smile.

"All right, you ladies have convinced me. Nothing like peer pressure, huh?"

Rani couldn't contain her excitement as she jumped up and down a few times, embracing each of her friends before pulling them into a group hug.

"I promise, you girls won't regret this," she said sincerely, although her eagerness was apparent. "With Evy's powerful singing voice and our exceptional dance moves, we'll knock 'em dead! We're going to be the hottest sensation to hit the Nar Shaddaa cantina scene this millennium! "

The women exchanged a series of grins reminiscent of the golden days in which their friendships were first forged.

"So," Rani started, looking upon Carina, Igrayne, and Evy with renewed enthusiasm. "What do you say we tell the guys about the latest advancements in our plan and get some funds for some shopping in the city?"

-------------

It took a lot of haggling with the men to get the credit chip worth three hundred credits that now rested in Rani's pants pocket. It took even more arguing to coax the guys into letting them go shopping alone. It finally took Evy haughtily pointing out that three of them were prior Jedi with lightsabers, and they were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.

"Why are men like that anyway?" Rani questioned as the women headed out of the maze of corridors that led out of the refugee sector.

"It's probably the whole 'protector' mindset," Evy suggested, shrugging.

"Carth would probably never forgive himself if something happened to you, Rani," Carina said, remembering Carth's staunch opposition to them going out by themselves.

"I guess I just miss the freedom we had before this whole thing started," Rani commented.

"Things seemed so much simpler back then," Igrayne mused, suddenly feeling nostalgic.

"That's because they were," Evy sighed, pushing a golden lock out of her face.

"Well, hey, now you and Atton seem to be patching things up," Rani said in a bright tone.

Evy smiled, a faint rosy blush adorning the apples of her cheeks.

"Awww… how cute!" Carina exclaimed. "Evy and Atton sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-"

"I'm not the only one mending my relationship," Evy started. "I heard you and 'Mikey' were K-I-S-S-I-N-G last night!"

It was Carina's turn to blush. The other women responded by erupting in laughter.

"Stupid Tren…" Carina mumbled under her breath.

"When faced with death, it seems like all the arguments and disagreements don't matter anymore," Evy said.

"I heard that being faced with one's own mortality tends to make people… uh…" Rani began.

"Horny?" Igrayne finished.

The girls laughed again.

"Yes, horny, and also it makes people crave love and companionship even more," Rani added, laughter still in her voice.

Igrayne quieted as the other women chatted on. It was true; danger following in their footsteps had made her desire affection…but it had not rebuilt the dying bond between her and Bao. Rather, it had killed whatever wisps of their union survived. Instead, she had given into Dustil's advances and had enjoyed it in the process. She was tearing herself away from Bao-Dur…the father of her child. The Jedi knight unintentionally placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the ever so slight roundness that hadn't been there before.

"Are you feeling all right?" Carina asked, pulling Igrayne out of her musings.

Instantly, Igrayne dropped her hand from her belly. "I feel fine… honestly."

At least physically she did. Mical had given her a tonic to help with the weakness and nausea, and it was definitely helping.

"I think we're nearing the room where we had the run-in with the Exchange," Evy said, her fair brows knotting together.

"We should be very careful; if anyone's keeping guard, they probably will give us trouble for trying to leave the sector. I'll peek in there first." Igrayne instructed, taking charge.

The Jedi knight crept up to the doorway quietly, her hand on the hilt of her lightsaber and her thumb gently resting on the switch. She glanced in there quickly, not noticing anything out of the ordinary in her Force sense. Then, heartened by the lack of threat, she stepped in softly, her dark eyes scanning the room. There was only one other soul in the room with her, and it was a man slumped against the wall. He was breathing, heavily and loudly, so Igrayne assumed he had fallen asleep during his watch duties.

She walked back to the girls waiting at the doorway, careful to take light steps on the metal floor.

"The guard's fast asleep. Just be as quiet as you can and we can easily sneak past him," Igrayne directed.

The four women had each of their gazes riveted to the sleeping man, and each of their hands on their weapons. They escaped with no trouble at all, and it seemed almost too easy to Igrayne, but she tried not to let that bother her. She'd take easy over complicated any day.

Compared to the reeking and suffocating aroma in the Refugee Sector, the outside air of Nar Shaddaa seemed like heaven. Each of the women took big, appreciative breaths of the relatively fresh air, until Carina broke the peace by galloping down the street and letting out whoops of excitement.

Igrayne, Evy, and Rani stared at their friend as Carina spun in place, her locks swirling around her like a fan of palm leaves. None of the others on the street seemed to take much notice to Carina's odd behavior, as they simply walked around her, content to continue on their journeys.

"I guess they are used to seeing crazy people," Evy commented.

Igrayne snickered as Rani jogged over to Carina.

"What's the matter with you?" Rani questioned, grabbing onto Carina's shoulders to halt her twirling.

"It feels great to know who I am," Carina began. "As odd as that may sound…"

Not many people would be happy to find out that in the life they didn't remember, they had been an evil Sith lord. Carina, though, had begun to come to terms with it. At least now she knew what she didn't want to be.

Rani smiled. "It feels great to have you back."

"My memories have been flooding back, Rani. I remember you…I remember what you did for me…how you wanted to save me…"

"Shh!" Rani ordered, clamping her hand over Carina's mouth. "Those days are over. I always knew that you were a good person."

The two friends embraced, chuckling to fend off the tears.

"Just remember that I'm not the only one…Mical has always loved you," Rani whispered in Carina's ear.

"I know," Carina answered with a big grin. "This time, I want to do things right."

"We're all here for you," Evy said, patting Carina's back as she walked up with Igrayne.

"All right, we're starting to get some looks now. Let's find a store," Igrayne said, her officious tone cancelled by her pretty smile and twinkling eyes.

"And let's not be so conspicuous and gallop around this time…" Evy added, giggling.

It wouldn't be long before the heaviest traffic would be at the cantina, and Rani wanted to get there as soon as they could to talk to the manager about performing. So the four females headed off to find a store to get their costumes.

The first store they walked in was disappointing. There seemed to be a large selection of pants, shirts, jackets, and armor, but there was nothing even remotely appropriate for cantina dancing. The next shop looked promising. Elegant gown and hipster outfits hung in the window on shapely mannequins. They found some wonderful costumes, but even if they bought just one of them, it would be way out of their budget.

As they left that store, the possibility of finding appropriate outfits seemed slim.

"Maybe we could just wear our underwear," Carina suggested.

"What?!" Evy asked, looking paler than usual at the prospect.

"Yeah, we could just put little decorative jewels and ribbons on it, and voila!" Igrayne said with impressive hand gestures.

"You want us to dance onstage in our skivvies? No way!" Rani said, putting her foot down.

"Yeah! No way!" Evy chimed in.

Igrayne and Carina dissolved into laughter. "Relax, we're kidding," Carina said, rolling her emerald eyes.

"Come on, loosen up," Igrayne said, shaking Evy by her shoulders, and Carina mimicked the action with Rani.

Rani took a deep breath out. "Yeah, it would be nice to not go crazy."

"Wait, do you get the feeling that we're being followed?" Carina voiced, unsure of her Force abilities.

Igrayne cleared her throat, choosing her words carefully. "I do get that feeling, but it doesn't seem to be dangerous…just curious…"

"Hey…look at that place over there," Evy pointed out, narrowing her large, sea-green eyes.

The other three women followed the line of Evy's finger, noticing the small shop. They walked closer, noticing the shabby exterior.

"Uh… this place looks like it went out of business centuries ago," Carina said, voicing what most of them were thinking.

"But look at that outfit," Rani said, pointing out the puke green tight pants and halter top combo.

"I see it, and it's ugly," Evy admitted.

"I know, but at least they carry the kind of clothes we're looking for…" Rani answered.

"And the prices will definitely be within our range," Igrayne added logically.

"It's nerve-wracking enough to have to be on stage tonight, but being in front of everyone in _that_," Evy said, pointing at the outfit, "will not do anything good for my confidence."

"I understand, Evy, but we have to be reasonable here. And who knows? Maybe we'll find some real jewels in this trash heap," Rani replied, walking through the open doorway.

Once the group walked in, the inside of the store wasn't much more impressive than the exterior. Every available inch of wall space was covered in clothing; it looked like they had stepped into the hell for sinful clothes.

"Welcome! How may help you?" A Twi'lek said exuberantly in broken Basic.

"Hi!" Rani said, with a polite smile. "Uh…we were just looking for some clothes."

"Have come to right place," the shopkeeper replied, waving her arms about the mountains of clothes surrounding them.

"Okay…" Evy said, desperately thinking of a way to get out of there.

"What you look for?" the Twi'lek asked, her golden eyes lit with excitement.

Rani realized they probably were the first patrons in weeks. "We're actually performing tonight at a cantina, and we're looking for some new costumes."

"You dancer?" the Twi'lek queried, her lekku shivering slightly in exhilaration.

"Yes, I'm the lead dancer, these two are my backups, and she's our singer," Rani said, pointing each of the women out.

The Twi'lek made a strange, high-pitched squealing sound that, although awful, was full of jubilation.

"I dancer! I used to be slave. Now I free for seven standard year and open store!"

Carina tried not to laugh at the extremely animated alien.

"That's great! Good for you!" Rani said, smiling widely, even though her companions could sense her building impatience.

The bright yellow Twi'lek had a personality to match her coloring. She pulled Evy in front of her and studied her carefully, pinching and prodding here and there. Evy looked taken aback but did nothing because of the pleading look in Rani's eyes.

"I have perfect one for you!" the shopkeeper exclaimed. She then leapt to the nearest pile of clothes and rustled through them, throwing clothing here and there.

As Carina dodged the clothing raining down on them, she leaned over to Igrayne. "I hope this isn't another dead end."

"Let's just be patient," Igrayne replied calmly.

"Spoken like a true Jedi," Carina said blankly.

Igrayne looked at her friend's face but saw no trace of negative emotion, so she let the comment go without response.

"RED! Perfect for you! Bring out the animal in this shy girl," the Twi'lek said, winking as she held up the glittering, fire-red dress to Evy's body.

"I'm not shy," Evy replied, "just modest." The dress was the tiniest one the woman had ever seen. It was strapless and perilously low-cut, with a hemline barely below her rear end.

"It is a pretty dress," Rani said, sounding impressed.

Evy shot Rani a panicked look.

"…But, it's a little too promiscuous for her. Perhaps you can find something a little more _substantial_?" Rani asked.

The Twi'lek narrowed her sunny eyes, her personality shaded for a moment. "She have great figure; this perfect dress," she stated, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

"Thank you, but I _cannot_ wear that dress…" Evy said.

"You can!" the Twi'lek bellowed, holding out the dress again.

"My underwear covers more than this dress would!" Evy exclaimed, thrusting her finger at the skimpy dress.

"Maybe you should not wear granny panties," the Twi'lek retorted, tossing the dress at Evy, where it landed ungracefully on her head.

Carina snickered at the jibe until the shopkeeper turned her attention at her.

"You lucky; you very slim," the Twi'lek commented.

"Thanks…" Carina said, looking down at her own body.

"But dancer must have curves to match her sexy movements," the Twi'lek replied, moving her own womanly hips to demonstrate.

"I see…so what do we do for that…put me in butt pads?" Carina asked sarcastically.

"No!" The Twi'lek said, taking her seriously and looking disgusted. "I give you clothes to emphasize what you have."

"Now you," the shopkeeper began, turning to Igrayne. "Let me see…"

The Twi'lek repeated the same performance she did with Evy, circling the dark-haired Jedi.

The alien leaned in, dropping her voice so that Igrayne could only hear. "Too many Banja cakes?" she questioned, patting Igrayne's belly. "Don't worry, I hide that for you."

Igrayne didn't even have time to comment on the Twi'lek's sharp gaze because she then whisked off to Rani.

The prodding and poking was repeated yet again on the curly-haired woman, her bronzed cheeks reddening slightly at the attention.

"You have dancer's body!" the shopkeeper exclaimed. "I find you nice outfit easy!"

This time, the Twi'lek bounded off to the back of the store, dodging the racks of clothing to rummage through her merchandise.

"Rani, I'm telling you right now, I am not going to wear this…this slut dress!" Evy said, looking as though she was on the verge of tears.

"It's okay…we'll find something else. I'm not going to force you to wear something you hate," Rani said in a soothing tone.

"Are you sure you don't want buy that one?" Carina questioned.

Evy scowled at Carina. "Yes, I'm sure!"

"It could make for some interesting role-play with Atton…" Carina answered, giggling.

"You could be the sexy cantina singer, and he could be the scoundrel who's panting over you," Rani replied, her cheeks dimpling slightly with her smile.

"That's not really role-play, since that's probably what's going to happen tonight," Igrayne said, smiling faintly.

A cloud of nervousness seemed to descend over the friends. To escape the awkward silence, Igrayne turned to a glass case to her right that she hadn't noticed before. She brushed off some clothing from the edges of the case and gasped when she saw a beautiful gemstone necklace. It was comprised of striking purple beads with swirls of iridescent green.

"That necklace is gorgeous!" Evy exclaimed, pushing away more clothes to get a better look at it.

"I wonder how much it is," Igrayne said.

"For you girls, eight credits!" the Twi'lek said, surprising the pair of girls at the jewelry display.

"Eight credits! That's a steal!" Igrayne exclaimed.

The Twi'lek beamed and then dumped an outfit in Igrayne's arms, ushering her toward a dressing stall in the back. She did the same with Carina and Rani, leaving Evy alone in the main room of the shop with the Twi'lek.

"Are you sure you not wear this?" the shopkeeper questioned with a softness to her eyes as she fingered the edge of the fabric that Evy still held.

"It's lovely, but I'm not used to baring my body like that," Evy admitted.

The Twi'lek sighed in disappointment, pulling the dress away from Evy and tossing it on one of the many piles of clothing. "If you not show off your body, I get you something to bring out your eyes," she said with a gentle smile.

Evy smiled back, truly relieved she wouldn't have to perform on stage looking like an intergalactic hooker. She watched the shopkeeper shuffle through a few racks before settling on her second choice and pulling out a breathtaking gown.

As soon as the blond-haired nurse caught a glimpse of the glittering silvery green dress, her breath stopped. It was the most gorgeous piece of raiment she had ever seen. As the Twi'lek held it up to her petite form, Evy noticed the elegant floor-length hemline, with a sensuous high slit. The low-cut yet demure neckline and slim straps added to the magnificence of the gown.

"Do you think it'll fit?" Evy said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Like glove," the Twi'lek answered, obviously thrilled that her customer was satisfied.

Evy waited quite impatiently for one of the women to exit a changing stall so that she could try on her dreamy dress. Carina was the first to exit, her deep green outfit complemented her eyes perfectly, and the shimmering swirls of gold through the tight fabric made the get-up look resplendent. Carina ran her hand over her exposed navel, fingering the crossed straps over the lower part of her ribcage.

"Lookin' smokin'!" Evy cried, her mood greatly improved.

"It really does make me look curvier!" Carina exclaimed, turning around to look at her rear in the snug pants.

Igrayne was the next to come out in a deep purple mini-skirt and gauzy top, with the same kind of swirls that were on Carina's outfit, except hers were green. It would match her gemstone necklace.

"You look great, Igrayne," Evy said with a big smile.

"It shows off your boobage!" Rani said, walking out of her stall.

"Yeah, but at least my stomach's not showing," Igrayne said, forgetting for a moment that her friends didn't know about her pregnancy. She had become so relaxed with her best friends that she had almost forgotten about all their problems. None of the others seemed to find anything out of the ordinary in Igrayne's comment.

"Wow! I can see now why you were successful as a cantina dancer," Evy said, taking in Rani's deep blue costume with silvery swirls. The outfit showed off Rani's hourglass figure and complemented her tan skin.

"Is that your dress?" Rani asked, her jaw dropping.

"I hope it will be," Evy replied, practically bowling the other woman over to get to a vacated stall.

The voices of the other women got quieter through the curtain of the stall as they moved away to look at the jewelry. Evy quickly undid her utility belt, pausing to place it carefully along with her lightsaber on the small table beside her. Next, she pulled off her shirt over her head, but when she tossed it to the ground, she let out a yelp of surprise. The curtain was pulled back a little bit, and there was a face peeking at her.

"Oh my Force!" Evy's arms flew over her shoulders to hide her chest.

"Oh, come on, kitten; it's nothing I haven't seen before," Tren said, winking.

"Get out, Tren!" she yelled, turning to face him.

"Why? Not enough room in here for the two of us to _tango_?"

"Trentyn! I'm serious!"

"Fine… fine…"

He disappeared, though Evy didn't trust him to not try to peek again. She tossed off the rest of her clothes as quickly as she could and tugged on the dazzling dress, all the while wondering how he had found them. All thoughts of Tren vanished as she took a look at herself in the mirror. The dressed skimmed down over her body, hugging her in all the right places. The shopkeeper had been right in knowing that the color would bring out her eyes. There was no other way to describe the view but gorgeous.

When Evy vacated the changing stall, dress in hand, she found Rani accepting a few boxes of shoes from the Twi'lek shopkeeper while Tren leaned against a rack of clothes, his eyes on Carina and Igrayne in their dancing outfits.

"You like the dress?" Rani asked.

Evy smiled prettily in response, her face lighting up with excitement. _Tonight may be fun after all…_

"Great, we'll take that dress too," Rani told the shopkeeper as she rung up their order.

"The total is 298," she said.

As Rani paid, Igrayne and Carina threw cloaks over their costumes to shield themselves from Tren's gaze.

"What are you doing here, Tren?" Evy fumed.

"Enjoying the view," he replied smartly.

She scoffed. "How did you find us?"

"I followed you," he answered in a satisfied tone.

"Why did you do that?" Carina said, entering the conversation.

"Well, I was voted the worst gambler, so I was charged with making sure you girls didn't get yourselves into trouble," Tren answered, his deep blue eyes twinkling.

"How typically male…" Rani commented now that she was finished with the payment.

"For your information, Tren, we got here and out of the Refugee Sector all without incident," Evy replied haughtily.

"Yes, kitten, I know that," Tren replied in a patronizing tone. "Good old Bao-Dur and I beat you girls to the guards. He lured most of them away and I knocked out the last one. It was so cute that you girls thought he was sleeping."

"Okay, little brother, enough bragging," Rani said, cutting him off before anyone jumped in to argue with him. "Did you guys find a good cantina?"

"We did. _The Rare Jewel_…we heard it was the classiest joint on this moon, though that's not saying much for Nar Shaddaa," Tren answered.

"I'm sure it'll do," Igrayne answered. "Let's head out."

The five of them walked out of the store and almost made it back onto the street before the boisterous shopkeeper bounded out after them, a few small bags in hand.

"What's this?" Rani asked as the Twi'lek forced the additional bags into her hands.

"A gift for sweetest customers I ever had. Please accept…"

Without another word, the Twi'lek bounded back into her store. Carina moved next to her friend to rummage through the bags.

"It's jewelry for each of us…" Carina said, astonished.

"Well that was nice of her!" Evy said.

"She's nice and stacked!" Tren said, staring at the shop. "You think she's got a boyfriend?"

His question was met with a roll of the eyes from Rani.

As the girls and Tren made their way through the crowded alleyways of downtown Nar Shaddaa with their purchases, they jabbered boisterously about the impending performance. Igrayne and Carina had warmed to Rani's idea, but the only one who seemed to be unusually silent was Evy. The young blonde woman paused as they made it to the safe house and entered single file.

"You okay, kitten?" Tren asked, throwing a backward glance at her over his shoulder. Something about her posture and her vapid expression told him she wasn't all there.

"Yeah, I guess. Just nervous. I've never sung in public before."

"You want to know an old performer's trick?"

"What?"

"Just picture your audience in their underwear. That will loosen you up real fast. That and a couple of Jumas."

Evy managed a polite smile that contradicted her inner turmoil. At least Tren was attempting to cheer her up, though it clearly wasn't working to ease her troubled mind.

"Thanks for the helpful advice. Does it cost extra?"

"On the house," Tren said, both palms upraised. He held the door open and ushered her into the room, where the rest of the heroes had gathered and packed their equipment. At their entrance, Atton raised an eyebrow and said in annoyance, "'Bout time you two showed up."

"You get the money yet?" Evy queried.

"Every single cred chit. Geriel just left to empty his bank account of more. The Jedi have provided him with extra funds—with whatever he needs to ensure that our plan succeeds."

"He was more than generous enough to lend us a couple hundred," Carth interrupted, assuming control of the conversation.

"Is that enough, Carth?" Rani asked, her delicate hand pressed to his arm. They interlaced fingers. Carth definitely did a double-take once he noticed the deep blue gown clinging sensuously to her perfect figure, and his eyes took their fill of her. Though he didn't say anything, Rani could be sure from his mutely approving expression that he very much enjoyed her appearance.

"Should be, gorgeous. Provided Rand here can back up his claims of being 'the best damn Pazaak player in the galaxy.'"

"Shouldn't be too hard," Atton said with cold hauteur, forgetting for a moment his concern that Tren and Evy had lingered behind the rest of the group of women. He dismissed it as another product of his paranoia. Ever since Evy had woken up from her kolto-induced stasis, Tren had seemed to take an unhealthy interest in her—an interest which appeared to be reciprocated. Atton had observed each of their interactions with increasing unease. He knew he would have to take up the matter with Evy sooner or later, but now definitely wasn't the time.

"Well, we better head out if we want to find a seat at the high-stakes table," Mithic interjected, his hand poised on the lightsaber at his side. It was becoming harder to exercise caution in the refugee sector after their grand entrance and subsequent run-in with the Exchange thugs. Mithic had even noticed increased security on the passage leading down into the sector, though none of the others had said anything about it. His Force senses told him what words hadn't: that they were being very closely watched. They would need to mind their step from now on.

"Tell me again I don't have to dress like that," Trinn said, making a sound of disgust in her throat as she surveyed the girls' new cantina dancing outfits. Indy, who reclined beside her in a supine position, crossed both arms behind her head.

"Appalling, isn't it? Whatever happened to a little thing called women's liberation? I, for one, wouldn't be caught dead in a skirt that short."

Her eyes settled on Igrayne, and the annoyed Jedi let out an offended-sounding "hey!"

"Sorry," Indy said with a shrug of the shoulders.

"I'm just trying to help us out. Which is more than I can say for you," Igrayne said, feeling more emotional than usual. It was getting more difficult to keep her hormones in check as time wore on. She had been seeing Mical in private for regular check-ups with arranged appointments in the 'fresher. She hoped nobody else had noticed them entering the 'fresher together, otherwise they might get the wrong impression and propagate gossip that simply wasn't true. During these appointments, Mical continually administered tonics and medicines of varying kinds, all of which he promised would weaken her nausea, but none of them seemed to treat her hormonal side effects.

"Geez, I said I was sorry. Would you drop it already?" Indy said angrily.

"No, I want to know what your problem is with me!" Igrayne demanded.

"Wake up on the wrong side of your berth today?"

"What's it to you? It's not like you care enough to actually take part in helping us out!"

"Well, I'm sorry I couldn't be a part of your little girl's club, trying on clothes and playing the pretty princess and all…"

"Don't get snide with me!" Igrayne said, her hand absentmindedly straying to the lightsaber hooked to her belt. Before she could draw it out, Rani jumped between them.

"My money's on the smuggler," Tren whispered to Dustil, who merely frowned in response.

"I don't know. Igrayne's got a lot of spunk in her."

"Spunk won't hold out against brute force."

"If you say so…"

"Guys, stop this! Arguing isn't getting us anywhere," the young woman said affably, trying to mediate the quarrel. She had thrown herself in between them and had one hand balanced on each woman's sternum, preventing them from taking a step forward. Indy waved a fist at Igrayne.

"Yeah, that's right! Next time you want to come at me, do it without a lightsaber instead of hiding behind it, you coward!"

Igrayne regained her composure, though inwardly she was on the verge of tears. The sudden outburst had escalated into an ugly fight, and she couldn't understand the source of her harsh words or why Indy had reacted so violently. Everyone else in the room had quieted for the moment, and she brushed a stray hair out of her eyes.

"I…I am sorry. I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have snapped at you, Indy. It's not the Jedi way."

Indy looked bored with her apology and walked over toward Han, who was pretending to count his deck of Sabacc cards in order to avoid getting drawn into taking sides. She elbowed him, freeing him from his spell, and shook her head at Igrayne. The smugglers shared a knowing glance.

"Now that's settled," Rani began, "we really should get going."

The heroes packed up and began filing out of the safe house, with Carth leading the group toward the busy space-port in the downtown sector of Nar Shaddaa. They tried to disperse into small groups so as to hide their numbers, though the mere sight of the motley crew was enough to send tongues wagging. As Igrayne walked along, feeling suddenly uncomfortable that she was put on display in the outfit she had chosen, she let her hand drift to the necklace adorning her throat and became lost in thought. She was only brought back to reality by the masculine voice beside her.

"You look nice."

She ignored the compliment and looked straight into Dustil's eyes. "What do you want?"

"Easy," he said, both hands upraised to try and calm her. "I'm just trying to pay you a compliment. You should learn to take one. Just say thank you, smile, and move on."

"Thank you, Dustil. Now that we've dispensed with the pleasantries, can you leave me alone?"

"Still feeling sick?" he asked, trotting along beside her to keep up with the quick pace she had set.

"A little better."

"Good. What, uh…what was that thing back there with Indy about?"

"I don't know what came over me," she replied. "I just…lost it, I guess. I don't really feel like myself lately."

"I know what you mean. When I found out my father had asked Rani to marry him…"

"He what?!" Igrayne said, pausing in her tracks. Dustil glanced sharply around and took hold of her forearm, forcing her to walk.

"Don't stop. Let's keep going."

Igrayne leaned in close to whisper. "Did he really?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"That's wonderful news!" she said, forgetting for a moment her own misfortune.

"Oh great. You, too?"

"I'm happy for them. At least some people deserve to be happy."

His eyes momentarily blazed as though they were on fire, and Igrayne never thought she saw him so mad before. This whole business of Carth and Rani's proposal was really affecting him. For the first time she noticed the hard lines under his eyes and around his mouth; they were lines caused by a lack of sleep.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just forget I said anything."

"I know why you're not happy," the young Onasi said, running to keep up with her now that she doubled her pace. She was doing her best to try and get away from him, but her best wasn't enough. "It's because of that Zabrak. He's causing you pain. And you've every right to be unhappy with the way he's treated you. I can see it in your eyes."

"Please, can we discuss this later?" she whispered, too weak to stand up to his indomitable will. He pregnancy had exhausted her both emotionally and physically, so much so that she specifically took detours when she knew Dustil would be crossing paths with her in the small safe house. It was becoming a chore just to have a conversation with him.

"Why not now?"

"Because, Dustil, we don't have the luxury of time. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

His hand caught her wrist as he took her closer, snuggling her into the curve of his body so that they were forced to walk side by side.

"The only reason you're not listening to me is because you're _afraid_. When are you going to stop lying to yourself, _Jedi_?"

He said the word with such contempt, such scorn, that Igrayne was suddenly frightened into thinking he might actually hurt her. She managed to pull herself forcibly away from him and jogged a little up to where Rani was walking with Carth. The other woman noticed the flush of color in her cheeks and how Igrayne appeared to be panting.

"Igrayne, are you all right?"

"Fine. Just a little out of breath. I'll be all right."

Though she wasn't satisfied with her answer, and she was sure there was something else the woman wasn't telling her, Rani wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her to walk.

"Don't worry so much. You'll be fine! Remember, you're my backup for the night. You can sit back and relax and let me do all the work!"

"Sounds good." Igrayne smiled sheepishly.

When they reached the entertainment promenade, which linked with both the cantina and the adjoining Pazaak den, the group decided to break ranks. Carth took Rani in close for a kiss and followed Atton, Tren, Mical, Mithic, Dustil, Han, Indy, and Trinn through the bloated entranceway. As soon as they entered, they were shaken down for some credits, but the Republic admiral quickly negotiated his way out of that one. Then the door swished shut, obscuring the girls' view of the rest of their party.

"You guys ready?" Rani asked. "Let's give them a few minutes to get situated. Then we'll make our grand entrance…"

Evy tried brushing every hair into place; anything to keep her hands occupied. Rani tried to calm her friend down by putting an arm around her shoulders with a slight squeeze.

"Don't worry so much. You'll be fine. Just you wait and see. Everyone will be blown away by your fabulous voice, and we'll have the credits in no time!"

Carina swirled around in her new outfit so that the skirt flew outward like gossamer. She seemed to be in good spirits, so Rani said, "'Mikey' must've liked your outfit, huh? Because, honestly, if you were any more exuberant, you'd be flying."

"He said it brought out the color of my eyes," the woman said giddily.

"I think she's in luuuurve!" Evy said dramatically, throwing an arm over her forehead as she pretended to swoon. Carina gave her a playful shove and then planted both hands on her hips.

"I am not! I'm just…happy!"

"Sure, we've heard it all before."

After a few minutes had passed, Rani went over last minute instructions with the girls then gave her appearance one final touch-up.

"All right. Let's knock 'em dead."


	23. Celeste and the Vixens

**Disclaimer: We do not own the lyrics to "Fallen" by Sarah McLachlan, nor do we claim to.**

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Their hands clasped in a handshake, the only apparent symbol of the deep bond they shared. A nod, a quick smile, and then their grasp released and they sat down.

This simple action would happen seven times among them before they began. The room the group sat in was a remarkably well-furnished room considering they sat in the lower level of an abandoned building in Nar Shaddaa. There were armchairs, scarlet wallpaper, a neat and clean carpet, and wall paintings to boot. These were the riches of the rat-hole, the taste in trash, and the beauty that only blood could bring. Every inch of their luxury was soaked in blood, sweat, and tears; their wealth was built on robbery, smuggling, and murder. This was the life of the crime boss, the circle of brothers that had turned rust into gold.

Among them was Jene Cyrus, who had helped form the circle when it was nothing but a gang of misfits. They had turned the gang into an outfit, and an outfit into a ring, and the ring into an empire. Each of the men now controlled veritable armies of career criminals of all stripes, and while Jene had left to chase his own demons, they still saw him as a brother. War was the forge that made strangers into friends, and friends into brothers, and in the stinking filth of Nar Shaddaa simple existence was a war against the planet itself, each day a new battle among the towering columns that held up the underside of civilization. Though not related by blood, battle had made them brothers in a way even birth could not. Seeing Jene again was not like seeing an old friend, but a long-lost sibling, a loved one who lost his way but made it back again, and while no one allowed it to show, they were all grateful he had remembered to come.

Jene went to take a cigarette from his pocket, but the man next to him stopped him and instead offered him a large cigar, undoubtedly expensive and probably ill-gotten. He happily accepted it and, lighting it, took a long breath of the polluted air.

"It's been a long time, boys, and while it's great to see you all…I didn't come by just to chat. I have a bit of a problem and hope I can get a bit of assistance. You see, I've got a big job for a group of—"

"Misfits who just happen to be 'Heroes of the Republic'?"

One of the men, Ragnar Fulsi, spoke over him—something that most people who knew him wouldn't have dared to do—and continued without missing a beat.

"We've had men following them since the little incident on the docks. It isn't every day you have fighter craft blasting away at docked freighters, even on Nar Shaddaa. What do you need to know?"

_That's the gang I know, always two steps ahead of me._

"I'd just like to be kept in the loop as to where they are. I've got a personal stake in this job, so you'll understand if I have a little fun first. All right?"

"Very well, Jene. We'll keep in touch."

"Thank you, guys. You know how to reach me if you need something."

With that, Jene stepped out of their pocket of civilization and back into reality, HK close behind him. The current coordinates of the group, along with their recent activities, projected course, and nearly every word they said in public, had been logged by some of the best spies money could buy, among them a certain ex-slave dancer who owed a couple favors to the group for arranging her freedom. They were now sent to HK-47's signal uplink, which he then replayed for Jene. The veteran assassin was impressed by the level of detail they had managed to get, but then just about anything could be had by getting the right things to the right people at the right times. They had mastered their art, and he had mastered his. Now it was time to play the game. Putting out the cigar on a permacrete wall and replacing it with a slender cigarette, Jene walked through Nar Shaddaa, directed by years of experience in navigating the streets.

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A mix of feelings whirled around the four women: excitement, nervousness, giddiness. Rani stood at the head of them, adjusting a couple of the jewel-tipped pins that secured a few tendrils of hair at the crown of her head; it was an effect of her anxiety.

"Okay, just follow my lead and remember this business is all about attitude and confidence." As the former cantina dancer said this, she stood up taller, thrust her chest and hip out, and donned an imperial expression.

"All right, let's hit it!" Carina said, obviously thrilled. She craved adventure and fun after all the darkness in her life.

An amused smile raised Rani's sensuous lips, though she did stay in her dancer persona, not allowing the smile to be too bright. She turned around gracefully, almost as if she was already performing and walked into the room with the stage for the cantina dancers, her hips swaying in a mesmeric curve.

Carina immediately mimicked Rani the best she could until she realized that she wasn't appearing very confident while her eyes were peeled to Rani's back as she studied her movements. Igrayne was too busy trying to control the flip-flopping of her stomach to pay attention to much else; it felt like a beached fish was flopping around in there.

Evy felt gooseflesh rise on her pale skin, which was only turning paler by the moment. Her wide sage-colored eyes darted around the room, noticing the seemingly bored patrons, drinks in hand, as they stared blankly at the stage in front of them. She looked up at the stage, noticing a lively Bith band and a troupe of Twi'lek dancers. The blonde felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment when she saw them.

She reached out to grab Rani's swinging arm, stopping the other woman mid-stride. "Rani, they already have dancers! What are we going to do?!"

As Rani glanced at the stage then leveled her cocky gaze back at her, Evy fretfully nibbled on her nails.

"Evy, get a grip! Those dancers are holograms," Rani said sternly, jerking her wrist out of Evy's painfully tight grip and placing it on her hip.

"Yeah, definitely holograms, Evy…you look like you need a drink," Carina commented.

Evy, disbelieving her panic-induced near-sightedness, directed her pupil-restricted stare back at the stage. The Twi'leks were not real.

"And stop fidgeting!" Rani demanded, yanking Evy's hand away from her mouth. Igrayne quickly jerked her hand back to her side from its resting place on her new gemstone necklace before Rani noticed. Continuing, the curly-locked woman started back on her journey to the back of the room.

Evy furrowed her brow in distaste, momentarily forgetting her extreme nervousness due to Rani's harsh manner with her. The nurse did not like this new egotistical side of Rani.

"Don't worry, Evy," Igrayne said, resting her hand on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "Rani's probably as freaked out as we are…she just has to keep a strong front."

Evy's face relaxed as her hands ran down over her glorious gown. "You're right. We can't really have our lead dancer be a frantic mess."

Rani led them to the corner of the room, where an Advozse leaned against the wall. His muddy brown pate matched the rest of his skin, and at the top of his head, one single dark brown horn jutted up toward the ceiling.

"It looks like a gremlin," Evy whispered to Igrayne. "Why is Rani talking to him?"

"He's the manager," Igrayne surmised, whispering back.

Rani sauntered up to the creature, striking a provocative post in front of him. "Looks like your cantina could use some help," she said, even her voice full of arrogance.

The alien focused his black eyes on Rani, the strong brow ridges of his face rising. "And you are?" His voice was gritty, like sand was stuck in his throat, but he seemed to have a good command of Basic.

Rani looked down at her nails, faking boredom as she jutted her hip out. "I'm Myst, and I'm surprised you don't know me since you are in the cantina business." She looked around with disfavor. "Though Nar Shaddaa isn't known for its connection to the arts."

Carina couldn't read the expression on the creature's face, though she could sense through the Force that his interest was piqued, even if he was suspicious of them.

"If you're so acclaimed, what are you doing here in _The Rare Jewel_?" he answered, standing up straighter.

Rani paused, her face a mask of mild annoyance, though Carina knew it was just a front. She was desperately trying to think of a good story.

"We were on our way to Coruscant when we had some trouble with our hyperdrive. We were forced to put down here for repairs," Carina explained, jumping in and hoping someone else would finish the lie she just started.

Rani turned around to look at her friend, giving her an appreciative look before continuing her act. "There's no need to tell him why we are here, Slyph," Rani said, making up a stage name for Carina on the spot. "What should concern you," she continued, turning back to the Advozse, "is that we can help bring in some actual business to this sad little establishment you call a cantina here."

"I already have entertainment here," the Advozse said, clearly miffed at Rani's caustic manner.

Evy grimaced, hoping that Rani wasn't doing more harm than good, but she stayed quiet for the time being, trusting her friend's experience.

Rani let out a degrading laugh in response, appearing very beautiful and very superior at the same time. "You call _that_ entertainment?" she said, pointing at the stage. "I admit, your Bith band is decent, but those holographic dancers aren't impressing anyone," Rani added, waving her hand across the room to bring the manager's attention to the sparse number of customers, many of them bored or dozing.

"And you think your act will be better?" he questioned, recognizing the poor state of the stage room.

Rani leaned in toward his face, a charismatic grin on her face. "I _know_ we'll be better."

The alien crossed his arms over his chest, the four fingers on each of his hands lacing together. He looked at each of the women appraisingly before settling on Evy in her elegant, sweeping gown. "She is your singer?"

Evy avoided the unnerving stare of the creature; his eyes were so black they were like a never-ending abyss. Rani answered the Advozse with a curt nod, arching her dark eyebrows loftily.

"Fine, I'll pay you 250 credits for a performance," the alien offered, a horribly low payment.

"Is he serious?" Carina whispered to the other girls angrily.

"He's just being difficult…Sylph," Igrayne answered, forcing a smile.

"I kind of like it," Carina commented on her new stage name. "It sounds sleek…"

"I'm sure Mikey will take a liking to it," Evy added, attempting a jibe, though her voice sounded weak and dry. She hoped that didn't last, or her singing would be harder than it already was.

Rani chuckled in response to the manager's offer, interrupting the other girls' conversation. "Are you a gambler…Mr…?"

"My name is Roda Lem," the Advozse responded, not surprised that his offer was not accepted.

"Roda Lem, I know we will blow this place away with our performance," Rani began, gently swaying her hips to the music, "that we'll bring at least twice as many customers to _The Rare Jewel_."

The creature's eyes widened, and Igrayne could almost see the credit symbols shining behind his eyes.

Rani continued moving, more extremely now, undulating her entire body to the music, her arms curving toward the ceiling. "We'll even increase your profit at least two-fold, and by the end of the night, you'll be begging us to make Nar Shaddaa our permanent home."

Evy, Carina, and Igrayne stood silently, watching their friend convey the essence of desire and passion through her sensual dancing movements. They'd never seen her dance before, and it was an amazing sight. When Rani slowly reduced her captivating motions, finishing with a slight surge of her hip, she looked at the alien, brushing her locks over her shoulder.

"Holy shi…" Evy said, her comment dropping off as she recovered.

"You can say that again," Carina replied, stunned.

"So, what payment do you propose?" Roda Lem asked, recovering.

"We get forty percent of all your profits for the night," Rani demanded.

Igrayne's eyes widened. If they actually did succeed in bringing in as much business as Rani was making it sound like they could, then that would be _a lot_ of money. She swallowed, forcing down the threatening nausea in her throat, glancing over to see Trentyn and Dustil enter the room. Each had a drink in their hand; it appeared to be some sort of ale to Igrayne, and she guessed neither was having much success at the Pazaak table in the other room.

"That's very steep," Roda Lem replied, not turning it down just yet.

Rani must have realized she had to sweeten the deal, because she made a risky decision. "Not really, because you only have to pay us if we bring in twice as much business."

Carina made a disbelieving strangling sound that came from the back of her throat. She was probably the most enthusiastic of the other girls, but even she didn't want to go through the whole ordeal and not get anything out of it. She tried to calm herself down by remembering that from what she could remember, Rani was level-headed and rational…but then again, she did take risks sometimes, like the ones she took in trusting Carina when she was falling to the dark side.

"Deal," the Advozse said with finality, quickly calculating that he would profit from them either way.

"Smart," Rani replied with a smile, shaking the alien's hand.

"So, what shall I introduce you as?" Roda Lem asked, turning to Evy.

Evy stiffened up, realizing that it would be very dangerous to use her own name. She racked her mind for names before one just popped into her mind. "Celeste," she managed to choke out.

The manager obviously hadn't heard her, so Rani jumped in.

"She's Celeste…our troupe is called Celeste and the…the…" Rani said, almost dropping her arrogant act as her mind went blank.

"Celeste and the Vixens," Igrayne supplied, remembering her comment from an earlier conversation.

Roda Lem looked at her, "And your name?"

Now Igrayne's mind froze.

"Her name is Phyre!" Carina said, smiling triumphantly, happy that she had contributed a name too.

"Oh, my Force!" Tren cried from across the room, in the voice of an extra-avid fan. "Is that Celeste?" he asked Dustil, who took a heavy drink from his cup to avoid bursting into laughter. Continuing, Trentyn set down his drink on the nearest table, walking up to them with a look of absolute worshipfulness on his normally smirking face. "Celeste, I am your biggest fan."

Evy couldn't help but crack a smile. "Uh…thanks."

"I swear, Celeste," Tren pleaded, hunching over to get closer to her face, "I love you. Will you marry me?" The handsome and humorous young man dropped to his knees in front of her.

Evy looked around, resisting the urge to slap him and hoping that Atton wasn't around to see it.

"She's taken," Rani said, stepping in and prying Tren's arms off Evy's legs. "But you are welcome to have an autograph." Once her younger brother was back on his feet, Rani gave him a warning look.

"Isn't Celeste beautiful?! She's always been my favorite," Tren said to Dustil, gawking like a love-struck teenager.

Carina turned toward the wall, covering her mouth with both of her hands as she laughed.

"I prefer Phyre," Dustil said, joining in on the act, though he was acting much more suave than Tren was. "I've always thought she was sexy."

Igrayne cleared her throat and looked away, pretending not to notice, while Rani was reminded of Igrayne and Dustil's heated kiss.

"May I have your autograph, Phyre?" Dustil asked, producing a datapad from his jacket. Igrayne nodded, accepting the pad and feeling quite silly while signing "Phyre" on the screen.

"If you will not marry me, Celeste, the least you could do is give me your autograph," Tren said, acting dejected yet hopeful.

Evy sighed, wishing he would drop it already. "Okay, fine, got a pad?"

"No, I want you to sign here!" Tren exclaimed, ripping his shirt open dramatically and bearing his toned and tanned chest.

At this, even Rani coughed forcefully to prevent herself from laughing.

Roda Lem, who had been watching the scene with much interest, pulled a marker out of his pocket and handed it to Evy. "You have some adamant fans," he commented.

Evy took the pen and looked at Tren, rolling her eyes.

"Right here," he whispered, pointing to the scar which was the only indication that he had been fatally shot by a blaster. Evy paused, her lips parting slightly as she remembered how she had healed him. She hid her faint blush by quickly signing her new stage name onto Trentyn's muscular flesh.

"Okay, thank you boys," Rani said dismissively to Tren and Dustil. "We have to get ready for our performance."

Tren gave Rani a dirty look, clearly enjoying his fun a little too much. "She's just jealous because she's not our favorite," he said, nudging Dustil. "Let's go get a drink."

Rani repressed a frustrated sigh, realizing that the little act had made the manager believe that they were a real performing troupe.

"I'll give you the late-night slot," Roda Lem instructed the girls. "It's my busiest time."

Rani nodded. "When does that start?"

The Advozse didn't even glance at his wrist-chrono. "Ten minutes."

He promptly walked away, leaving the girls in renewed nervousness.

"Oh my…do I look okay?" Evy asked.

"You look stunning," Rani said, smoothing out a wisp of wavy golden hair.

"You don't think the navel-baring is too much, do you?" Carina asked, pointing at her flat stomach.

"No, you look great. Actually, we all look damn hot," Rani said, sticking her straight nose into the air.

"Wow, you are _so_ modest," Evy said sarcastically, bothered by her friend's arrogance.

"Hey, why lie? We look smashing," Rani said, turning up the charm. "Besides, we're performers; we're supposed to think we're hot shit."

Evy shrugged and then did it again to loosen up the tensed muscles of her shoulders and back.

"You think the others will watch us?" Igrayne asked, trying to change the subject.

"Tren will, because he's a horrible gambler, and he never would pass up an opportunity to stare at sexy women…too bad I'll ruin it for him," Rani said, grinning.

"Yeah, they'll probably take breaks to watch us, plus Mical told me they'd have at least two of them in here at every moment to keep watch," Carina explained.

"We can't be too careful in this situation, especially when it seems like everyone is after us," Igrayne added, running her hand over her tumultuous tummy.

"I think we'll be okay though…no one expects us to be dancing in a cantina, and with our outfits and make-up…we look very different," Rani said, her eyes surveying the stage ahead of them.

The other women nodded, trying to draw from Rani's apparent confidence.

"Just remember what I told you. Attitude is almost more important than talent in this business. Just keep the act up and we'll do fine. Carina and Igrayne, you girls will be my back-ups. I'll try to stay on stage the entire time, but I'd like at least one of you up there with me. And Evy, I know you can sing, girl. We all can do this."

The others nodded like a dejected team listening to their coach.

"Okay, good. We have five minutes; just try not to freak out," Rani said, her eyes betraying her nervousness for a second.

"I'll go get us some drinks from the bar," Carina said, walking away before she got too nervous.

"Nothing like some liquid courage," Rani said, forcing a laugh.

"Do you think that can help?" Evy asked, faint hope in her green eyes.

"Sure, but only have one or two…it'll relax us some," Rani answered seriously.

"None for me, thanks," Igrayne said.

Evy and Rani looked at her, both with curious expressions on their faces.

"I don't think my stomach can handle it at this point," Igrayne said quickly.

"Suit yourself. You don't know what you're missing!" Carina answered for the others before bounding off to claim an empty seat at the bar.

A lull in the cantina's lively activity signified that the bands were changing sets. Slightly alarmed, Evy watched the Bith musicians pack up their instruments for what seemed like a very long time. She was just getting used to their style of jizz-wailer music, which was typical of most cantinas in cosmopolitan areas, and composing on spot arrangements for some of the repetitive tunes in her head. The arrival of the second band of Bith musicians, however, made for an unwelcome surprise.

"What are they doing here?" she demanded, clearly on edge. Under the flattering layer of makeup Rani had caked onto Evy's face, she was turning an impressive shade of beet red.

"Relax, will you? The band's just changing sets. It happens every hour or so."

"Oh, great! This is just great," Evy said, pacing in frantic circles to dispel some of her nervous energy. Rani, who was still fixing her long curls which were gathered at the crown of her head in an ornate design, cast a wary glance at her friend.

"What's the problem? Remember what I said about being convincing? Well, you're not doing a very good job of it. Your face is broadcasting a message that you'd rather be cleaning up Bantha poodoo than performing center stage."

"Of course you'd joke about this; you're not the one who has to sing!" Evy snapped irritably. Rani could sense that anything she had to say would not be enough to calm Evy's fears, so she kept quiet, her radiant eyes seeking out Carina at the bar. She jerked her head toward the statuesque woman and said, "Go get your drink. It'll help you take a load off."

"You know, I don't normally drink, but don't be surprised to find me passed out on the bar top after my fifth Juma."

"Not before we perform," Rani cautioned her. "You want to help Atton, right?"

"Oh, please. Since when does he dress up and prance around in glitter and sequins for me?"

Rani extended an arm in the air and snapped her fingers to get Carina's attention. When the emerald-eyed woman's gaze swam through the moderate crowds of the cantina, they alighted upon Rani. The other woman had a pleading look in her eyes; it was as if she was begging her to get Evy buzzed enough to work up the courage to sing with confidence.

The trick did not work, however, and Evy walked over to a corner of the cantina to console herself, walking in short circles and muttering a few words of self-encouragement. Rani raised an eyebrow and continued preening for the imminent dance.

Carina was seated at the bar beside a number of exotic-looking and colorful aliens, already immersed in her second Juma. The architecture of the cantina itself was typical of the Nar Shaddaa style—concrete, corrugated steel, and sheet-metal. The resources gave the structure a solid and sturdy but delicate touch, the metalworking adding ostentatious flourishes where none were needed. The designs over the bar top indicated some of the cantina's rules in foreign characters. Though Carina didn't know how or when she had learned to read the language, she was definitely certain she could make out a "no droids allowed" sign perched right over the barkeep's head. This seemed a reasonable enough request to abide by. There had been such a high number of cantina incidents involving droids that the rule had to be instated to reduce liability.

Carina pondered this for a moment as the Juma began to take effect, first on her speech, then on the rest of her senses. She almost dismissed the annoying poking sensation in her arm as the feeling of pins and needles caused by an intake of too much liquor. But the sensation was definitely real, and Carina turned her eyes to its source.

A smarmy-looking man in a crisp, standard-issue uniform was staring back at her as though amused by the sight of her drunkenness. His black hair hung, unkempt, to his shoulders, exposing a painfully bald patch of shiny white scalp on top. Carina resisted the urge to snicker openly at the follicly-challenged creep.

Ignoring the local enforcer, Carina ordered a few more drinks, scooped up the glasses, and attempted an impressive balancing act as she prepared to walk back to her friends to deliver the goods. The enforcer sidled up beside her and started getting uncomfortably cozy. The emerald-eyed woman merely shot him a look of disgust, but it wasn't enough to get him out of her personal space or to keep him from getting overly familiar. A burly hand drizzled in black hair reached out and covered her own.

"Hey, beautiful. How much?"

"Why, you—" the woman cursed as his eyes took their fill of her body.

"For the drink, I mean. It's on me."

"More than you can damn well afford."

"Try me."

"Please. Go space yourself."

The man was oozing raw charm, and Carina couldn't help but admire his persistence, even if he was a little on the bald side. Besides, the Juma cleared that problem up and increased his attractiveness rating almost tenfold.

"Just want to buy a pretty lady a drink. No harm in that, eh?"

"I guess not," she said, warming to the idea the moment the liquor from the accepted drink hit her lips. Now on her third round of drinks, Carina momentarily forgot she had ordered the remaining two Tarisian ales for her friends, and she offered one to the man as a friendly gesture. He drank it up thirstily, a wolfish grin covering his chapped lips.

"So, you come here often?"

At this point, Carina was too confused to deduce whether or not the statement was intended as a pickup line or rather as just a general inquiry. She answered cautiously.

"No. Our ship was grounded, and we got stuck on this miserable planet. One thing I must say though is that they have the best damn Juma in the whole galaxy. Do you want one?"

"I'm already drinking one," he said in an entirely calm voice, watching her with satisfaction as she pushed aside her empty glass and reached for another to fill its place. "But I think you should have another. Here…"

He slapped the barkeep's palm with a few more credits and ordered up a Starshine Surprise and Corellian brandy—two interstellar spirits of great renown—for her to have her pick. Carina lost interest with the Juma and reached for the brandy instead.

"This stuff is good. Who knew brandy could pack such a punch? Whew!" She slapped the bar top, stifling a hiccup that threatened to spill beyond the barrier of her lips. But when it did, the enforcer knew that he at last had her in the palm of his hand. At that was left was to pump her for information…figuratively speaking.

"There is no brandy more flavorful and savory than Corellian brandy," he explained, leaning forward to cleanse a succulent little red stain that flowed through the crevice of her bottom lip. As he did so, he took a taste of his finger and gazed deep into her eyes. "Always made with real Corellian fruits, otherwise, it's just brandy. Delicious, isn't it?"

Carina prevented herself from leaning into him and taking back some of the brandy he had stolen from her lips. She ran her tongue over her lower lip to revive it of moisture, the lingering aftereffects of the brandy still sharp on her tongue. The full-bodied brew was courage given liquid form. It immediately made Carina more susceptible to answering questions.

"You the entertainment?"

"Yeah." Carina snorted. "I came with this troupe of dancers—Celeste and the Vixens—you might have heard of us?"

The man shook his head.

"Figures. Anyway, we're all set to perform in…"

Carina cast a glance at the wall chrono and let out a slew of expletives.

"Force!" she said, quickly correcting her language. "I have to get going…we're due on the stage in three minutes."

"Stay a little longer, baby," the man said, propping up one arm against the bar top. "Relax, the band hasn't finished setting up their equipment yet. You've got a few more minutes to spare."

"Oh, I guess I do," Carina said, feeling suddenly lightheaded, like she'd been hit with a ton of bricks. It was only now that the alcohol was really beginning to take effect, making her head spin. She sashayed her way into the seat beside the enforcer, rubbing her temples.

"You gonna be okay to perform?" the man said, surveying her glassy eyes.

"Yeah, I'll be just fine. It's not like it matters anyway. I'm only doing backup. Rani has the real work. She'll doing most of the dancing."

"Rani?" The name slid like silk over the man's tongue, and Carina immediately recognized her gaffe.

"Uh…Myst."

"So her name's Myst now?"

"Myst is…her stage name," Carina said. The lie was beginning to swallow her, and the man could clearly understand this.

"I see."

"I really shouldn't be talking to you."

"Why not? Have I given you any reason to mistrust me?"

"No, it's just that Carth said we should steer clear of the locals," Carina replied, slurring her words no matter how hard she tried enunciating clearly.

"Carth is…your ringleader?"

"Yeah, I guess. He kind of assumed the position, and we all just follow him."

As she spoke, the enforcer's eyes drifted to the adjoining Pazaak den, where a flock of men and women had gathered at the high stakes table. And he could make out a man seated nearest to the dealer, his head cradled in his hands as he got up the nerve to place a bet. The orange jacket and sloppy hair were easily unmistakable. This woman spoke the truth about Carth Onasi.

"Blindly."

"No." Carina's anger was beginning to boil over now that her exuberance from the alcohol had subsided. "I don't take orders from him. I can leave anytime I want to. It's not like I'm contractually obligated to listen to him."

"Good to know, sweet cheeks," the man said, reaching a hand out to let his fingers trickle down the side of her face. "If you're contractually bound to any man, I'd want it to be me. What do you say? Care to make this night a memorable one?"

_Whoa_. That was definitely an invitation. There was no mistaking it. Growing uncomfortable with the whole situation, Carina abandoned her drinks and made some feeble excuse to the man that she would have to go warm up for the performance. The enforcer watched her regroup with the other three women who were gathered by the pit of the stage, where a small gathering of tables were grouped in a circle. A few patrons and denizens went to occupy the empty seats, obviously interested when the two "fans" from earlier had caused a ruckus.

The enforcer didn't need to see anymore to confirm what he needed to know. He took a final swig of the brandy, licking his lips free of the taste, before heading out the door and ripping a transceiver from his utility belt. As he spoke into the unit, a soft hum of static and fuzz accompanied his words.

"Carth Onasi and crew are at the cantina. I've counted thirteen of them, but there could be more. Weapons and defenses are minimal. They've presented their necks, and all that's left for us is to slice them."

"Good," the flat, emotionless voice replied over the feed.

His transmission made, the enforcer stepped back inside the cantina to do some real work—and to take stock of the upcoming performance by the female members of Carth Onasi's crew.

----------

Mical ran a frustrated hand through his messy blond hair as he watched Carina interact with the officer. The man was being overly friendly, and it didn't sit well with Mical at all. Of course, it didn't help that Carina was mirroring his friendship. While the more protective part of him defended her actions by saying she was drunk, the other part of him—the more self-preserving part—accused her of being lenient with her favors.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was jealous. What made this man worthy of Carina's attention when Mical had strived, unsuccessfully, for years to gain it? Then again, he reminded himself, he had found minor victories along the way of his struggle for Carina's love. Regardless, all their actions had led them here...and he was no closer to her. In fact, he was perhaps farther away than he'd ever been. He certainly felt like that, anyway.

The man touched her bottom lip, and Mical felt the serpent of envy coil around his heart as he clenched his fists together tightly. Why was this bothering him so much? They were independent adults; if she wanted to sleep with some random stranger, who was he to question it? However, Mical felt that logic was sorely lacking for some reason and refused to acknowledge it.

As Carina and the strange man talked, she seemed to grow increasingly angry, which, in turn, caused Mical's own anger to flare up. This time, though, it was directed at the man. He had no right to upset Carina, especially after all she'd been through. Mical had kept his distance to allow her to recover, and this man should as well.

The moment Carina moved from the bar, Mical's blue eyes followed her over to where she stood beside Rani, Evy, and Igrayne. Seeing the other women, Mical immediately reprimanded himself for not paying closer attention to them as well. He was on guard duty at the moment, and that included all the women. He lowered his head for a moment, lifting the small glass of liquid he'd had in front of him to his lips, taking a small drink. He didn't want to look too conspicuous by just watching the women...even though that was exactly what he was supposed to be doing.

Carina was all but oblivious to Mical's prying gaze as she stood beside her friends. She lifted a hand to her head and rubbed it gently. "Be careful of the brandy; it packs a wallop!"

While the statement was suppose to sound light and relaxed, it sounded tense and nervous, much to Carina's surprise. Rani looked at her with a curious expression. "Are you all right?"

Carina didn't feel the need to mention her encounter with the peculiar albeit a bit frightening officer. "Better than Evy," she teased, looking at the nervous blonde.

Evy heard her, much to Carina's amusement, and shot her a death glare. "Thanks, Carina," she said, her tone layered with sarcasm as she continued to pace and go over the lyrics of her song in her head.

"Oh, lighten up, Evy."

"That's easy for you to say. All you have to do is shake your assets a little while _I_ have to sing!" Evy groaned aloud, having reminded herself of her plight. Turning pleading eyes to Rani, she asked, "Do I still have to do this?"

"Yes!" Rani confirmed. "We're already committed. We need this money, Evy. As much as the guys would say otherwise, there is no way they're going to be able to make enough to get us off planet and to somewhere safe."

Evy frowned. "I know."

Igrayne noticed the conversation between the girls and added, "Don't worry, Evy. I'm sure you're a wonderful singer. You'll do fine."

"Thank you, Igrayne," Evy smiled weakly.

"Besides, it's not like we'll have to see any of these people ever again once we get the money, anyway," Carina added nonchalantly. "Just do your best."

Upon Carina's reassuring smile, Evy nodded. "Okay. But don't blame me if I blow it!"

"You won't," Rani told her. "We're going on in five, so get ready."

This seemed to be the worst thing to say as it sent Evy into a panic again, and she went back to her superfluous pacing. Carina giggled at her friend's behavior, but didn't comment further on it, watching Rani continue to teach Igrayne some moves, much to Igrayne's disdain, apparently. She looked as if she was going to be sick, which was unlike the usually confident woman, Carina thought.

The more she thought about going onstage, and being mildly unprepared, the more nervous she became—despite the drinks she'd had, which were already wearing off for some reason—so she departed from the small group of girls. She was headed in the direction of the nearby 'fresher when she was intercepted by the enforcer again, much to her disapproval.

"Hello again," he began.

"Goodbye again." She tried to get out of his presence, but he seemed determined to walk beside her.

"Nervous? Drinks wearing off already?"

"That's none of your business," she snapped with haughty disdain.

"Ah, so the drinks seemed to numb your tongue as well, eh?" he remarked with a grin. "I like that."

"Get away from me," she growled, trying to move past him into the hallway that led to the 'fresher, but he would not let her go, his body barring the way.

"What's wrong? I'm just trying to make light conversation," the man told her calmly. "Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"I...uhm..." She rubbed her forehead again, torn between being polite and telling him to back the Hell off. "I'm feeling very...ambivalent. I'm going to go."

He grabbed her arm before she could. "So soon?"

She could smell the liquor on his breath and it made her turn away, trying to free her arm in the process. His eyes took in her scantily clothed body at the same time that she used her other hand to try and make him let go.

"Let me go," she ordered.

"C'mon, Miss _Sylph_," he said, with a snide grin. "I just want to talk."

"I believe she asked you to let go."

Carina's emerald eyes immediately locked with cold, defensive blue ones. She was quite relieved to see Mical there at that moment, as he looked away from her to the man who had apprehended her. When the man said nothing, Mical said, "Now."

Carina couldn't remember a time when Mical had looked so serious and...dangerous? However, she didn't remember a lot of things, so that didn't really mean much to her.

The man looked challengingly at the blonde man who had just stepped in. "Or what?"

Mical stepped closer to him, exuding a more intimidating presence than what was natural for him. "You _really_ do not want to test me right now. Let her go."

Much to both Carina and the man's surprise, he released her. "No need to get violent; just wanted a word with the lady."

"It is obvious that she does not," he replied coldly. "Now leave."

"Sure, sure," the officer said, slowly slipping away. After all, he wasn't to engage the enemy just yet, and he didn't want to give himself away.

As soon as he backed off, Carina relaxed. Mical didn't, for some reason, though. She looked at him gratefully. "Thanks; he was really starting to creep me out."

"You should be more careful then," Mical told her with an indifferent air before turning to walk off.

Carina looked at his retreating back with a stunned expression. For someone who had just come to her rescue, he wasn't acting very...very what? What did she expect? It wasn't as if he had an obligation to be kind to her, but still...it bothered her. She wasn't entirely sure why, but his nonchalant attitude toward her caused her some ire.

"Wait," she said, reaching out to grab his arm. The moment she touched him, however, he withdrew his arm from her as if he'd been burned.

"Yes?" he queried politely.

"Are you okay?"

He gave her a deadpan look. "Why?"

"I don't know, you just seem sorta...distant, is all."

"I'm fine."

Carina blushed, feeling embarrassed for making a scene. "Okay. Didn't mean to bother you."

Mical sighed. If she was going to play the wounded Kath hound pup, he was never going to get over her. "You weren't bothering me."

This was said so softly that she didn't catch it, and she began to turn away, frustrated with herself and her inability to still connect with her friends. This time, Mical caught her arm before she left.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what?" she asked with an innocent expression.

"It's just really..._difficult_," he managed to choke out, "being around you."

"Oh." The hurt in her tone was obvious.

He rubbed his scruffy chin, flustered. "I just—"

"It's okay; I understand," she assured him.

"No, I don't think you do."

She looked at him with her large green eyes, confusion lining her features. Mical looked down at her, every thought urging him to kiss her, to reconcile, to forget everything that had happened and start over. He just needed to lean forward a little bit...just a tiny bit...

"Carina," he breathed, lowering his face toward hers.

"Sylph!" a voice from behind her yelled.

She spun around, causing Mical to withdraw quickly, which he did, slowly returning to his spot amongst the shadows to keep an eye on things. "Yes?"

"We're on!" Rani told her excitedly. "Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be!" she replied, turning back to Mical only to find him gone. Strangely, she felt some disappointment at that, but she ignored it.

Bounding happily over to the girls, she smiled ecstatically, the action brightening her pretty features. "It's dancin' time!"

--------------

The Corellian brandy brought back jarring memories of the Sith Academy on Korriban for Dustil Onasi. Though Master Uthar, his teacher, had prided himself on instilling a sense of sobriety in his recruits, the Sith nonetheless knew how to throw a good party. After-hours mixers were the only source of enjoyment Dustil had had upon recruitment into his new "family." The rigors of training had often caused him to take refuge in a good drink or two, and as a result, he knew how to hold his liquor well. His friend Mekel had introduced him to the joy of brandy when he was a first-year.

And then there was Selene. Upon his arrival, she had taken him under her wing, shown him the ropes, and assumed the role of mother hen—often defending his "impure" lineage to other recruits who sought to poke fun at the fact that he was a Republic admiral's son. He had fallen hard for her almost immediately. But his passion had cooled shortly after he had been given a promotion in the ranks of the Sith. It was not long after that he'd followed Destrik to war…

The memories were bittersweet, as was the taste of the liquor which now rolled beneath his tongue. He took a deep draught of the brandy, letting its amnesiac effects consume the unbidden thoughts that raged in his mind. Unfortunately, the spirit wasn't nearly strong enough. It couldn't erase the memory of Carth and Rani's proposal, which was still so fresh in his mind. He sneered and took another drink.

His former weapons master, Trentyn, seemed to notice his somber state. The older man clinked glasses with Dustil to get his attention.

"You look like you just lost your best friend," the other man said, leaning over the bar so that his muscular build rippled underneath the crude fiber armor he had donned.

Dustil and he had barely had a chance to speak since Telos; Cyrus had kept them on the run for quite some time now, and conversation was in short supply. Besides, Tren made himself "useful" by clowning around with Atton, so Dustil could never find time to get a word in with him. This side of Tren was so unlike the calm façade he projected while acting as his weapons master and prefect of the dormitories. He usually took his duties seriously—but he was also a staple at all Sith parties. That should have been a warning sign of things to come.

True to form, Tren guzzled down his Juma and banged his fist on the bar top for more.

"Wench, bring me some more!" the man shouted boisterously at the new bar matron who had come to fill the other one's place. The woman, unamused, sent the new drink sliding down the bar top with a flick of her magic fingers.

"That's what I call service!" Tren exclaimed, taking a deep sip of the new drink. Dustil merely rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable in his seat. The girls were in the far corner, preparing for their dance. Rani had assumed control of the pack and was guiding them through last minute moves of her own devising. The other women were just barely following them.

A smile tugged at the corners of Dustil's mouth as he watched "Phyre" perform her backup role as best she could. The woman was out of breath and in bad shape for dancing—as evidenced by her clumsy, plodding feet—but that didn't diminish her beauty in his eyes. Her dark eyes seemed spirited by the dance, and her enviably full lips puckered open tantalizingly, calling to mind the kiss they had shared in the empty corridors of the ship. He allowed himself to enjoy watching her for a few minutes longer and then turned to have a look at Tren.

"You know, I could really go for one of those sandwiches the mess hall used to make right now."

This comment seemed to strike the right cord with the other man, who momentarily abandoned the pleasures of his drink to talk.

"I was just thinking that the other day! Ye'heshra was one hell of a cook."

"Too bad she didn't stick around too long after the battle."

Dustil thought some tension might arise from the mentioning of the battle with Destrik, but the other man seemed unaffected in the least bit by it. He trilled on aimlessly.

"Where'd she go?"

Dustil's shoulders lifted in a shrug.

"To Coruscant, or some other place where she could get lost. Just like the rest of us."

"You don't say? Hell, if she were here right now I'd hire her to be my personal cook onboard the _Blade_. I'd be having sandwiches morning, noon, and night. I'd make her my personal slave!" A devious smile interrupted his out-loud musings. "And, you know, Ye'heshra sure wasn't bad to look at either…I'm sure I could find other roles for her, too."

Dustil grimaced. Tren's "escapades" were legendary around the Academy. It was one reason the former Sith weapons master failed to gain any respect from him.

"And what about 'Celeste'? I'm sure she won't be happy to hear of your love for Ye'heshra's…_sandwiches_."

"She signed my chest. D'you see?" Tren ripped open his shirt without restraint, causing a few shrieks and jeers from the bar-goers sitting nearby. For all his attributes, social awareness certainly wasn't one of them.

"It looks…smashing," Dustil replied. His eyes squinted when the signature he was expecting to see didn't show up. Instead, in its place was… "Oh…uh, have you actually checked what she wrote, or were you so busy you didn't notice?"

"Why, what'd she write? CRAP!"

Once quick glance down told Tren all he needed to know. "Go space yourself" was scrawled in boldface across his chest. When the formerly angry bar-goers got around to reading it, too, it elicited a chorus of jeers and applause.

Regaining a sense of humility, Tren tucked the folds of his shirt into his vest to shield his exposed chest from view.

"What can I say? She finds me irresistible."

"Repulsive is more like it."

Tren's modesty quickly gave way to a poorly-timed sense of anger.

"What makes you so confident? Did Igrayne light your 'Phyre' or did she write some nonsense about you, too?"

A quick dab into his vest and the younger man procured the datapad Igrayne had signed earlier.

"No, look. She signed her name right here."

After a close examination, Tren flung the datapad at Dustil in boredom.

"Fine, Mr. Suave. I'll give this round to you." Tren's nose wrinkled as a pungent smell wafted through the air. Neither man wanted to know its source or what, in Force's name, it was.

"No wonder Selene followed you around like a lost little puppy dog. You must've given her a line like you gave Igrayne."

Selene was a touchy subject. Dustil merely acted very involved in his drink as Tren prodded further for details.

"So, was she good in bed? Might I have liked her?"

"Careful," Dustil cautioned, despite the fact that the man had formerly been his superior. He knew Tren had never had any respect for him anyway because of his age and his unwillingness to commit his full potential to his studies with the blade. But he had always respected his superiors, and now he was struggling to keep that in the forefront of his mind as Tren continued the unsolicited prying into his heart and mind.

"What? I just wanted to know what she was like. I had my eye on her for a while until you stepped in. Then she just became kind of bland and boring."

"She was not boring!" Dustil said, his anger flaring at the mention of his old girlfriend. "She was one of the most intelligent, skilled, genuine women I've ever met!"

"Easy there, kid. Old crushes die hard, I guess, eh?" Tren's teeth showed in a display of goodwill. Dustil nodded, signifying the matter was no longer open to discussion.

Silence settled as the two men finished their drinks and tipped the barkeep. The unsightly woman stuffed the wads of money in between her breasts in a vulgar display. Tren and Dustil merely retained their place at the bar, turning to face the stage. The band had just set up their equipment for the second set, and it looked to be a good lineup.

"Gosh," Tren remarked, fishing into his pocket for some chump change to throw at the girls after they finished their first act. "The sight of Evy in that tight little number makes me kind of hot and bothered. I know she's Atton's girl and all, but geez Louise. I'm having trouble keeping my cool here."

Dustil smiled. It felt good to laugh once in a while. It was certainly a departure from the grimace permanently affixed to his face. The facial expression seem to have been planted there ever since the start of the wars, but he felt he was finally learning to let go of the anger and aggression which had defined and consumed his life for the past year. Still, one thought lingered in his mind.

"You ever thought of returning to the Sith Academy, to Korriban?"

Tren was bobbing his head to the music as the band warmed up. His "moves" were laughably bad, but Dustil prevented himself from laughing outright at his former teacher, fearing a reprimand of some kind.

"Yeah, sure. All the time…and not just for the sandwiches."

"It felt like home there, much more than this stupid, filthy planet," the other man added, voicing what the two of them were thinking.

"Now that you mention it, Nar Shaddaa is kind of…ugly."

"Nothing compared to the deserts of Korriban," Dustil remarked. "You know, I got to spend a lot of time out there when I interned for the archaeological dig down by the tombs. It was amazing."

"You were on that, too? My old girlfriend, Rheya, practically took ownership of that project once she was called in to help."

"Rheya…you mean Indy?"

"Yeah, yeah," Tren said dismissively. "She may be Indy now, but she'll always be sweet, sexy Rheya to me."

"Well, she must've arrived shortly after my departure. I was gone well before she ever appeared on the scene."

Unhindered by the fog the liquor cast over his judgment, Tren looked at the other man with a plan in mind.

"You know, you should join our operation."

"What operation?"

"Atton and I started a business. We're entrepreneurs…of sorts."

"What kind of business?"

A furtive glance cast from side to side told Tren that the coast was clear; no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.

"You could say we're in the business of hoarding ex-Sith soldiers, setting them up in new jobs, houses, giving them new lives. Or at least we used to be, before we were branded 'enemies' of the Republic and all. Our base of operations used to be on Telos, though now that's gotten shot to shit, I don't know what we'll do. I'm looking to be back in business as soon as the coast clears." He spoke almost nostalgically, reminded of the nice little digs he and Atton had set up in Telos. It had been months since he last visited their hideout, which was probably overtaken by some of the city's gangs by now and reinvented as some other group's base of operations.

"And you've got a place for me?" Dustil said, sounding intrigued by the offer.

"Yeah, sure. We can always use an extra hand. Especially one who's worked on the other side."

"Sounds interesting."

"Well, you think about it. You don't have to answer right away, of course, but the sooner, the better."

"I will think about it," Dustil promised.

"Good." A loud flourish from one of the Bith musician's kloo horns signified the start of the performance. "Oh, look…the girls are getting ready to shake their cute little butts. Wanna watch?"

"I could use the distraction."

Both men pulled their seats closer to the stage, though it was difficult to do so with the huge crowd—both standing and sitting—that took up half the room.

-----------

Evy's feet found purchase on the stage as their names were called in quick succession, without giving her any time to think. The scant applause which followed was not nearly enough to drown out the fear weighing heavy on her shoulders, and as the crowd quieted, Evy found herself staring into blank space. For a moment, everything seemed to lapse into slow motion, and it was as though she was watching herself from a spectator's point of view and not from her foothold on the stage. Roda Lem's impressive maw yawned open to signify growing disinterest; he tiredly ticked off a couple of notations on a board he held close to his chest, probably one which signified he certainly wouldn't be keeping "Celeste and the Vixens" in his employ for very much longer. Evy resisted the urge to flee the stage right then and there.

She had been slowly surveying the wide open cantina, committing its layout to memory as she did with every environment. This one was much more stifling than those she was accustomed to, however; the massive durasteel walls and low ceiling meant that she would be hard-pressed to contrive a mode of escape should the need arise. And ever since the thought of singing in public had been brought up, escape had been the only thing on her mind.

The music queued up, swelling to an immediate crescendo, but the woman's voice failed her. Though she opened her mouth, no sound came out. When the spectators seemed to notice her stage fright, the momentary silence dissolved into a chorus of booing and jeering. Evy's eyes immediately sought out Rani, who stood to the forefront, a look of alarm upon her pretty features. She seemed to be signaling her to start the song, otherwise they might be booed right off the stage by the angry mob.

Through tear-streaked eyes, Evy searched through the crowd for moral support. Her focus landed quite ungracefully upon a man she recognized, standing by the bar top. It was the same man who she had seen earlier, cavorting with Carina over multiple drinks right before they were due to perform. Something about the man unnerved her—and then she realized why. He was standing next to Jene Cyrus.

All of the nerve endings in her body were on fire, and her sense of self-preservation kicked into overdrive as she looked at the man, who was quite obviously watching her and enjoying her discomfort. Inscrutable thoughts were lying behind his dark eyes—thoughts that, though enigmatic, managed to be frightening all the same.

Apparently Carina's "friend" was not so. The enforcer was flipped a couple of cred chits and quietly left the room, leaving only Jene Cyrus in the back, comfortable on his perch. He seemed entirely unconcerned that there was a room full of people who could possibly become an obstacle to the tracking and elimination of his quarry. That was probably because he knew he could obliterate the place with only a few charges from his blaster. He stood with the cold assurance of a born killer, and it was this observation that chilled Evy to the bone.

"Do something," Rani mouthed, her features relaxing slightly despite the increasingly insistent chatter of the crowd. Apparently the other woman had not noticed Cyrus' presence in the cantina. Evy admired how her friend attempted to remain calm and stoic in such a harrowing situation. All of her own attempts at talking herself into this harebrained scheme had backfired the moment she set foot on the stage.

_Don't let him get the upper hand…_

Evy walked up to the mic and uttered an incoherent word into it, the device amplifying her timid voice. She immediately recognized how such a device could easily be used to exploit her anxiety, so she moved aside the mic stand and stood front and center on the stage. The music still hummed quietly behind her, alternately soothing and irritating when it became stuck in one place too long.

The lighting grew dramatic, courtesy of Roda Lem's top-notch tech crew. As a single spotlight trained on Evy and the crowd's angry uproar subsided, she allowed her eyes to streak across the room to the adjoining Pazaak den, where they alighted upon Atton. He had his back to her, but his ribbed brown jacket and messy head were unmistakable. The dealer nimbly flicked a card at him which he held close to his vest. But his attention wasn't on the cards he so carefully attempted to guard. In that moment, she reached out to him without knowing it, and Atton turned to face her. Across the room, their eyes locked, and the scoundrel peered back at her through his mass of shaggy hair.

"Good luck, sweets," he mouthed, apparently unaware that her fear had taken hold over her. This simple reassurance filled Evy with renewed confidence. As Atton returned to his heated Pazaak game, she smoothed her hands down her sides, feeling the silky texture of her gown and remembering at that moment that it was finally her time to shine, to cast away all the fears, worries, and doubts she had stored away over the last twenty-six years of her life. None of those things mattered now. Now she was Celeste.

She began to sing:  
_  
Heaven bend to take my hand  
And lead me through the fire  
Be the long awaited answer  
To a long and painful fight_

_Truth be told I've tried my best  
But somewhere along the way  
I got caught up in all there was to offer  
And the cost was so much more than I could bear_

_Though I've tried, I've fallen...  
I have sunk so low  
I messed up  
Better I should know  
So don't come round here  
And tell me I told you so..._

_We all begin with good intent  
Love was raw and young  
We believed that we could change ourselves  
The past could be undone  
But we carry on our backs the burden  
Time always reveals  
In the lonely light of morning  
In the wound that would not heal  
It's the bitter taste of losing everything  
That I've held so dear._

_I've fallen...  
I have sunk so low  
I messed up  
Better I should know  
So don't come round here  
And tell me I told you so..._

_Heaven bend to take my hand  
Nowhere left to turn  
I'm lost to those I thought were friends  
To everyone I know  
Oh they turn their heads embarrassed  
Pretend that they don't see  
But it's one missed step  
One slip before you know it  
And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed_

_Though I've tried, I've fallen...  
I have sunk so low  
I messed up  
Better I should know  
So don't come round here  
And tell me I told you so..._

Her voice had a delicate quality that matched the music the Bith musicians played, and almost all of the women onstage could feel the power behind it, the channel in the Force that her voice created. Igrayne had to keep herself from gasping at the realization that Evy's sensitivity to the Force was as real as her own in that moment. Somehow, she had never quite thought of Evy as the Jedi type.

The nurse launched almost immediately into the second song she had so religiously practiced, warbling every note and every syllable with incredible flair. She had complete mastery of her instrument, and she used it to full effect while reaching for and holding the high notes. She even grew daring and threw in a few vocal runs. The crowd, who by now seemed awestruck at having witnessed the complete transformation from shy first-timer to seasoned performer, was bobbing to the rhythm of the music and occasionally cheering her soaring vocal runs.

The other women merely fell into their routine, mesmerized by the sound of Evy's voice. _Wow, I never knew she could actually sing_, Carina thought, the effects of the liquor beginning to wear off and produce a massive headache. _Force…_

Shifting her eyes to the side, Evy noticed that Carth and Mical patrolled the area, stopping every so often to stand guard at strategic points in the room—nearby the entrance to the Pazaak den, at the bar, behind the musicians' pit in front of the stage (which closely resembled a pawn shop, with dozens of instruments strewn haphazardly everywhere). They never once grew lax about their duties. Carth stopped only once to have words with the barman, but he was back to his post within minutes. Mical, as well, seemed to be keeping an eye on the Pazaak players in the other room to be sure they didn't double or triple their losses. Dustil and Tren sat nearby, engaged by the performance.

Accompanying the floor show was Rani and her troupe of dancers, who seemed confident enough with the moves they'd practiced to perform them with ease. Though a couple of times Igrayne and Carina stumbled and faltered in a move or two, Rani was always there to guide them, her lithe dancer's body swaying sinuously to the strains of the music. As they attempted to replicate these moves—albeit a little more clumsily—cheering and cat-calling accompanied the growing approval from the once-tough crowd.

Evy sang, and the crowd lost track of time for a while. The threads of music wound into the night, one song segueing smoothly into the next. Some were of hope, and others were of despair. But all had that undeniable power behind them.

After several more songs, Evy looked up to find Jene Cyrus gone, his seat vacated as if he had never been there at all. For a moment she questioned herself and wondered if he had been merely a figment of her overtired imagination. She didn't give herself too long to ponder this, as they finished their next set and walked up to the edge of the stage for a quick bow. Rani interlocked arms with them all and instructed them to curtsey.

The applause was deafening. The crowd by now had filled out to include all manner of creatures—Twi'leks, spacers, Bith, Zabraks, Wookiees, humans, Duros, and the more exotic Mon Calamari species. They were all expressing their appreciation by whistling, cheering, and yelling. Apparently this response was not what Roda Lem was expecting from his new troupe of dancers; he elbowed the barman and whispered something to him.

Dustil and Tren, who had been sitting by the bar throughout the entire performance, ran to the front of the stage. Tren ripped open his shirt, screaming like a fool as he trilled "Celeste!" over and over again. Evy blushed, pretending to ignore him.

The four girls skipped off the stage, and no one was happier to be finished than Evy. There was an extra little spring in her step as she said, "We really pulled that one off, eh?"

"You were amazing!" Rani said, throwing her arms around her, nearly strangling her in a massive hug. "I told you that you were a great singer! I just didn't know how good you really were!"

"She's right," Carina agreed.

"I didn't know you could hold notes like that!" Igrayne said enthusiastically.

"Neither did I," Evy said with a giggle.

Hesitant to bring up the subject of the Force-spawned power she had felt embedded in Evy's songs, Igrayne merely shifted uncomfortably as Tren and Dustil ripped through the crowd and came up to them.

"Celeste, you were incredible! You just melted my heart tonight!" Tren babbled, once again adopting his "eager fan" persona. Dustil, though more subdued, looked with renewed interest at Igrayne.

"Nice dancing."

"Thanks…"

A cynical smile curled his lips upward.

"How about a drink?"

"I'm sorry…I don't accept drinks from strange men," she teased, returning his smile. She couldn't shake the feeling that making light of their situation was somehow wrong, especially when Bao was the one who they were hurting. They were interrupted from flirting further, however, by Roda Lem, who came barreling toward them through the crowd with a look of extreme pleasure on his face.

"You brought down the house!" the creature enthused. Rani flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"What'd I tell you?"

"I knew I spotted talent the minute I saw you four!" the creature continued, trying to cover his earlier misjudgment. "This is the best crowd turnout I've had in years. I think I'd like to keep you on. You girls are good for business."

"But we'll be gone by to—" Carina began. Rani's hand immediately clamped over her mouth.

"What she means to say is we'll have to think about it. You write us up a contract and we'll take a look at it."

"Deal," Roda Lem said. He turned to the amassing crowd of aliens and people who were threatening to run him over to get to the women. He shrugged and nodded his head toward the stage.

"You can't keep your fans waiting—they demand an encore!"

"Wait a minute—ENCORE?" Evy yelled. "Nobody said anything about an encore! Nuh-uh."

"Relax," Rani said in an undertone. "This is good for us. It means that we'll have more money and we'll be more help to the guys. From the looks of things, they aren't doing too well at the Pazaak table."

"What makes you say that?" Igrayne queried.

"Well, for one thing, I haven't seen Atton look this pissed in ages," Rani replied. "And for another, Mical keeps going in there every five minutes to have a talk with him. Those two are going to go head to head in about another ten seconds. Now, won't you sleep a lot worse tonight knowing you could have stopped it?"

Evy's hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Oh, so now you're trying to guilt me into this all over again? No, thanks. I've had my share of singing for the night. More than my share, actually."

"But you were so amazing! Look at them! Can't you hear the crowd hollering your name? Don't you like it?" Rani turned and waved the hemline of her dress in a little flourish toward the cheering crowd.

"Well…it is kind of nice…" Evy admitted, feeling very much the hypocrite.

"And there's more where that came from. Just get back up on that stage and give them something to really cheer about!" Rani said, using one arm to propel her up onto the stage again. The woman grudgingly went forward, taking the stage, and the minute she did, the crowd went wild.

"She's a real trouper," Igrayne remarked in an undertone to Carina as they followed Rani back up to their designated places onstage.

"Yeah, no kidding. If I had to sing again, I'd be wringing my own neck."

"I know what you mean. At least we just have to dance and look pretty."

"Yeah," Carina said with a stifled laugh. Her laughter immediately dissolved into suspicion as she glanced at the other woman, who was bathed in a light sweat. "Igrayne, are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm just a little out of breath."

"Can you dance?"

"Yes. Don't worry about me."

As the women took their place beside Rani amid the cantina's dank lights, the cheering escalated. The music immediately swelled back into an encore of their last song, and Evy immediately began singing, trying not to allow her eyes to focus for too long on Atton, who was currently embroiled in what looked to be a nail-biting Pazaak game.

------------------

Atton Rand knew he should bail now while he had the chance. He was losing his third hand of Pazaak, and he had wagered more than he could afford. At the high stakes table, that was suicide. Here, wagers were thrown about like ship scrap by the big-guns who had a couple of hours to waste in a cantina and a whole lot of credits to blow through. But Atton had neither hours nor credits to waste, and it was the lack of both of these that was severely troubling him.

He knew the inevitable was coming, so he took a moment to look around him and see how his crewmates were faring. Han Solo was enjoying meager success at the Sabacc table, scooping up some winnings here and there from the dealer, though nothing important. He even saw Mithic travel to the cashier once or twice for a payout, but he was sure the soldier would have informed him if he'd hit the jackpot—which he obviously hadn't. Indy, who had tired of Pazaak, went to join Han at the other table, leaving only Trinn nearby. She, too, was losing after enjoying a small winning streak the dealer called "beginner's luck" right when they'd sat down at the table to kick off the night.

Atton buried his mussed head in his hands, tuning out the ruckus that bled into the den from the adjoining room. The sounds of the cantina were ruining his concentration, which was already in short supply. With so little time left, it would be a miracle if they made enough money to pay for the ship's repairs. He vowed that if that were the case, Bao-Dur would be staring down at a knuckle sandwich for breakfast.

_Damn Zabrak's the one who got us into this mess in the first place…_

"Hey, Atton, you might want to take a look. Your girl's singing," a feminine voice said, drawing him out of his reverie. He looked up at Trinn, who marshaled his attention to the room from which the ruckus was emanating. He was surprised to see Evy beautifully crooning the words to a song he had never heard before. Her voice was not what surprised him most; it was the passion with which she delivered each line.

"Nineteen," the dealer sneered, turning up his last card which did not match his opponent's perfect score of twenty.

"Damn it!" the scoundrel cursed, his hands balling into fists which repeatedly pounded the dealer's table. The humanoid seemed to take pity on him.

"Friend, how about a word of advice, eh? Walk away now with your dignity intact, your credits still in your pocket."

"Not a chance, buddy. I'm here, and I'm staying, even if it kills me."

A fat arm supported the man's weight as he bent down toward him. "Then a word of caution. Good players stay on nineteen and hit on eighteen."

"I know how to play!" the man said in irritation.

"Perhaps the beginner's table is better suited for a man of your…capabilities," the dealer replied with an ironic smile.

Atton slapped down another chip to indicate he wanted to make a 1,000-credit wager. The dealer snatched it up and wagged a finger at him.

"Ah, ah. Not until you've paid his winnings," the dealer instructed, motioning to the irate opponent, who was growing more impatient by the minute. Atton tipped his head to him by way of acknowledgment.

"Sure. Let me, ah, just go get the money from my droid. He's waiting outside."

"Be quick," the dealer said, shuffling the deck after retrieving the cards.

The scoundrel pushed himself to his feet and strode jauntily out the back door and into the small alleyway of Nar Shaddaa. He was followed out by Trinn, who was so light of step that she practically avoided detection.

"Hey, Atton."

Startled, the scoundrel whipped around, a hand straying to the blaster at his hip. His fingers withdrew when he saw it was only the woman.

"Oh, you."

"Let me guess…no luck at the Pazaak table?"

"What do you think?"

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, drawing herself up to her full height. She was statuesque and practically towered over Atton, which only served to compound his frustration.

"Why don't you take a breather and go watch your girl perform? I've got the tables covered."

"I may be down, but I'm not out. Do you have another fifty credits or something to go on?"

The woman's fair eyebrow arched speculatively.

"I thought you were already five hundred credits in debt. When that dealer realizes there's no droid out here and that you don't have any intention of paying him, you'll be banned in every cantina from here to Coruscant. Defaulting on debt isn't likely to endear you to these types."

"Thanks for reminding me."

"It's best you just stay out here and keep watch or something," Trinn instructed him. "I'll tell him I went out here for a breath of fresh air and didn't see you. Just let me handle it."

"Yeah? And why are you so eager to help me?"

Trinn ran a hand through her blonde mane, shaking it back from her forehead. She was getting tired of hanging out at the Pazaak table all night, but if it meant getting off this rock any sooner…

"Because, I feel kind of sorry for you."

"What?"

"You know, with the way your girl looks at that imbecile, you should be worried."

"Imbecile?"

She wiped her sniffly nose on her sleeve. "Tren. You know, the idiot."

"Watch yourself," he said, his finger poking into her chest. "That's my girl and my best friend you're talking about. I don't think I like what you're implying."

"I'm just saying," Trinn said, shrugging. "If I were you, I'd keep her as far away from him as possible. He's bad news."

Atton flattened his palm against the backside of his head, scratching the mass of hair as he digested this information. Tren and Evy would never…well, would they? He didn't like the seeds of doubt she was planting in his mind.

"Just go back to the tables while I wait out here."

"Whatever you say."

After the woman entered the bustling cantina again, Atton's fist collided with the wall, a symbol of his pent-up rage being unleashed. Although the blow hurt, it hadn't hurt nearly as much as the import of the words she had spoken to him.

Atton placated his paranoia by going over several recent scenes in his head. Tren's nosiness and "bad timing," Evy's reluctance to indulge him on occasions when he'd tried to initiate intimacy—it was all making sense.

And then it struck him. The scar he had seen before on Trentyn's chest, which resembled a healed scorch mark and which the other man tried to dismiss as something he'd been born with, couldn't have possibly healed in a matter of days. Only someone with senses attuned to the Force could have made such a speedy recovery possible. Such an act he had seen only once before, when Evy had miraculously healed him of what should have been a fatal wound inflicted by a fiery blast.

But there had been extenuating circumstances—she had tapped into abilities previously unknown in order to save his life that fateful day. There was no way she could possibly recreate the utter turmoil and anguish she had been feeling that day in order to call upon her dormant Force powers and heal the wounded man…was there?

The image of the scar-like mark on Trentyn's chest burned itself into his brain. The thought that Evy might actually have healed him seemed to erode any sense of loyalty he had for his friend.

Atton flattened both palms against the walls and hung his head down, trying to calm his breathing. It was growing hard just to think through his blind rage and the thought that Evy could actually prefer Tren to him. What did the man have that he didn't have?

As he was pacing, he didn't notice the dark figure creeping up the long alleyway until it was nearly upon him. At that moment, the scoundrel snapped to attention.

"Looks like you picked the wrong alley to walk down," the voice said menacingly. The dark figure produced a blaster and aimed it for Atton's skull. In a blindingly fast movement, Atton had his weapon out and had trained it in a similar motion upon the figure. They stood like this, at a standstill, for a while longer, until Atton said huskily, under his breath, "Looks like you just made my day a little luckier."

He unloaded the charge into the figure's body, watched it fall to the ground lifelessly, and then went to scavenge for credits. His search produced pleasing results: the man was carrying a 2,000-credit piece on him. Atton snatched it up and quickly pocketed it.

"Thanks a lot, pal. I owe you one."

The scoundrel strode back into the cantina with cold hauteur, flipping the credits in his open palm. As he seated himself at the one unoccupied seat by the Pazaak table, the dealer raised an eyebrow. Atton immediately tossed the angry man 500 credits and swung an arm over the chair back.

"Damn droid wandered off. Looks like I better keep that restraining bolt on him next time, eh?"

Atton ordered a drink from the bar, although no one said anything.

"I'm in for 1,000," Atton said, slapping the credits to the center of the table as the game began to heat up.

Though suspicious, the man dealt him another hand. As he flipped his first card up, Atton realized the odds had finally turned in his favor.

"Keep 'em coming," the man said. "Looks like Lady Luck is finally smiling down on me."

"We'll just see about that, won't we?" the other creature sniffed at him.

Atton's angry gaze returned to the woman performing in the next room and the man who stood with young Dustil Onasi at the foot of the stage, eagerly taking in her performance as though he lived and breathed her every word. At that moment, his anger threatened to boil over.

"Make it 1,500," he said, changing his wager much to the dealer's delight

As soon as Atton increased his wager, Mical was on him like a laigrek on its prey. "Atton," he hissed. "What do you think you're doing?"

Atton didn't even bother looking at the younger man. "Playing pazaak. What does it look like I'm doing?"

Mical ran an agitated hand through his blonde hair. "Where did you get that money?"

Atton shot a nervous glance at his opponents and dealer. "Heh. Business associate," he told them lightly, chuckling uncomfortably to break the tension. "Man loves to bother me...but what can you do?"

The scoundrel shot Mical a look that screamed "scram!" but Mical didn't pay attention to it. Atton was plunking down money left and right, and not helping their cause at all. Meanwhile, the girls were being forced to perform even more to earn the money that they desperately needed...and it was making Mical highly uncomfortable. Especially given the fact that the girls were receiving so many dirty looks from shady characters. It didn't sit well with Mical at all.

"Atton," he said, lowering his voice. "Cut your losses now. I'm sure we can—"

The dark-haired man turned his dark, narrowed eyes at Mical. "I'm doing fine...so drop it. I may be down, but I'm not out yet. So stop talking down to me."

"I'm not talking down to—"

"Hit me," Atton ordered to the dealer, ignoring Mical from that point forward.

The younger man simply sighed, turned, and departed from the Pazaak den, deciding to keep an eye on the women instead. He was disappointed to see that the unsavory characters from before were still going crazy over the girls, but fortunately, they were kept well away from the stage. He wasn't sure if it was due to cantina rules...or Carth's domineering presence.

Mical watched as the older man casually walked around the cantina, specifically the stage area. He seemed like a hawk protecting its young as he gave a dark look to anyone who got too close to the women. This would've made Mical smile if he wasn't so concerned about their situation in its entirety. They couldn't stay on this planet too long, or Cyrus would find them and kill them.

Not only that, but that man from before who had been pestering Carina was still watching her, and it caused Mical to develop quite a dislike of him. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Carina's lovely form. She wasn't the best dancer, but she was wearing a genuine smile that lit up her eyes; she was having fun. It was nice to see her happy, so contrary to how she'd been not too long ago. She had returned to being the same woman he had fallen in love with...and that was what concerned Mical the most.

He refused to love her again.

He couldn't. It just was not a possibility anymore. He had loved her once, and it had broken him. Mical highly doubted his heart could take another defeat. If he fell in love with her again, he'd be vulnerable again...and he never wanted to feel vulnerable again. The last time he had, he had been in a very dark place...a place he did not want to return to.

The blonde man approached Carth, falling into step beside him. "How are they doing?"

Carth frowned. "Great."

"Then why do you look so worried."

"That's why," he said, as if it were obvious. "Have you noticed the three in the back right corner?"

Mical looked over there. "Yes. What about them?"

Carth narrowed his eyes. "I have a bad feeling about them."

As opposed as he was to using the Force nowadays, Mical decided it was worth the risk and stretched out through it to tap into the minds of the three shadowy figures who were bothering Carth. He closed his mind to focus more intently, shutting out all the noise and smells of the cantina. It wasn't difficult to break into their minds as they were all heavily intoxicated. However, what Mical found in them were very disturbing to say the least.

"Well?" Carth prompted.

Mical opened his eyes. "You were right."

Carth nearly growled. "What are they planning?"

"To catch the women unaware and...uh..." Mical frowned, letting the sentence trail off. His meaning was not lost on the admiral, however.

The admiral tensed. "I'll kill them," he said in a deadly calm tone.

Mical rested a hand on his shoulder to stop him from stomping over and putting his blasters to all three of their heads. "They won't be able to do anything while we're here...and I'll make sure the women aren't left alone. Besides, the last thing we need is a scene."

As much as he hated it, Mical was right, and Carth knew it. "Fine. But if they make one move—"

"Then I shall be among the first to join you in stopping them," Mical finished, forcing a smile.

Carth nodded, then continued his surveillance. Mical let him go, and slipped back into the outskirts of the cantina, where he had a good spot to watch the performance. With Carth guarding them, Mical didn't doubt that the girls were safe...but it never hurt to keep an extra pair of eyes on them, just in case one of the bystanders got too bold.

Again, instinctively, his eyes found Carina as she continued to dance beside Igrayne and Rani. Igrayne seemed a little ill, and Mical knew why. He was opposed to letting her dance in her condition, but she'd wanted to...and he couldn't stop her without raising questions that she did not want to have to answer. He couldn't blame her; and besides, it was her life—her child—what say did he have?

Rani swayed with the music as if it flowed within her very blood, and it was easy to see that she had done this before. The dark-haired woman had little problem adjusting to each song, and the audience loved her, cheering every time she'd add a little more flavor to her dance. She helped keep the energy up, and Igrayne and Carina followed suit.

Evy, too, seemed to have relaxed a bit. The moment she started singing, Mical noticed she seemed to grow deaf and blind to everything else around her...except Atton, who she would constantly look at any time she stumbled or tripped up a bit. This caused Mical to smile faintly, seeing that she found strength in the one she loved.

And lastly, there was Carina. Clothed in her vibrant green attire, Mical couldn't help but be entranced by her. Every move she made seemed to almost taunt him, as if showing him something he could never have. Her smile radiated warmth and happiness for she had always loved a challenge. It had been something that Mical had admired about her: her willingness to jump in and try something new...no matter how difficult it was.

Suddenly, her stunning emerald eyes found his faint blue ones, and her smile widened. Mical could not look away, seemingly drowning in those beautiful eyes. She winked at him, and for a moment he forgot to breathe. He looked around to see if she'd just been goading one of the bystanders, but when he looked back she was laughing, still looking at him.

It made him smile.

"You should talk to her."

Mical had been so lost, watching Carina's lithe form move about the stage that he hadn't noticed Carth approach. "What?"

"She's not the same woman she was when she fell," he told him. "You should try talking to her."

Mical was a little stunned for a moment, but then quickly recovered himself. "There's no point."

"With that attitude, you're right," Carth said. "But it's obvious you love her, so you're just torturing you both by not speaking with her."

"That's easy for you to say," Mical snapped a little defensively. "Your relationship with Rani is secure."

Carth raised an eyebrow. "Now, you're just making up excuses."

"Like you said, she's not the same woman," Mical pointed out.

"It doesn't matter," Carth countered. "You still love her, and it's obvious."

That comment made Mical frown. He didn't love her. He didn't. He _couldn't_. However, he found that he had no retort to Carth's statement. He looked away from the older man, looking back to Carina. Did he still love her?

_With all my heart._

Mical closed his eyes for a brief moment, shunning the answer.

Carth smiled at him. "She's been through hell. She needs you more than you think."

"Why me?" Mical asked, looking at him seriously. "I'm nothing to her. She said as much on Korriban."

The bitterness was not hidden from his voice, and Carth pitied the man for it. He had known Mical for a long time, and had watched him go from a compassionate young man to a man disillusioned by life and all it had to offer. Even his appearance had changed; Mical no longer sported the face of a youth, but that of a broken man. He had grown a light beard, and his hair was constantly in disarray, contrary to the clean shaven look he once wore.

Carth remained silent, knowing better to press the subject further. If Mical wanted to speak further about it...he would. The man wasn't going to do anything extreme, after all. He was still a good person...just a little lost, but Carth couldn't blame him for that either. The woman he'd loved had fallen to the dark side, nearly killed him, seemed to have died, and come back to life only for Mical to find out that she had been with another man...and she couldn't remember Mical. No, Carth did not blame the man for being wary. A broken heart takes time to heal.

"She doesn't remember me," Mical said at last with an elongated sigh. "She remembers Bao-Dur, Igrayne, Rani...hell, she even remembers Atton. But she doesn't remember _me_. Why wouldn't she remember me unless I meant nothing to her?"

"I'm sure she just needs time—"

"Time," Mical snorted. "She's had plenty of—"

Mical cut off his sentence, realizing how cynical he sounded. What had happened to him? What had happened to the light-hearted man that he'd once been? Had he turned into the very monster he'd seen in Carina when she'd fallen? Had he become all that he despised? As much as he feared it, he believed that he had. He had become that which he had fought for so long.

He bowed his head, a pained expression on his face. "I don't know what to do," he whispered in a choked voice.

Carth's expression softened, seeing how torn the man was. "I can't guarantee you anything, Mical, but I can advise you to give her time. You never know when things will turn around."

"I suppose you're right," Mical conceded, trying—and failing—to regain his composure. "Thank you, Admiral."

The dark-haired man smiled. "Think nothing of it. We all need a little guidance sometimes."

Just then, the music seemed to fade to an end, and the lights went down momentarily as the girls finished their encore performance and headed backstage. Carth knew that was his and Mical's cue to go backstage as well to keep an eye on them, and both men headed that way. They were allowed backstage due to the passes they had been given earlier.

Carth immediately headed to where Rani was freshening up, applying some more blush to the apples of her sculpted cheeks. He came up behind her, placing a kiss on the sensitive part of her neck causing her to giggle.

"You're doing wonderful, gorgeous," he told her.

"So are you," she replied, still giggling. "I saw you and Mical patrolling...you both look so serious!"

"It's a tough job," he defended, though he didn't look serious by the smile he wore now.

Rani turned, wrapping her arms around Carth's neck. "Oh, I bet."

Meanwhile, instead of heading to Carina—as was his initial preference—Mical walked over to Igrayne to see how she was holding up.

"How are you doing?" he asked in a quiet tone so only she could hear him.

Igrayne forced a smile, wiping some sweat from her brow. "I'm hanging in there."

"If you need to stop—"

"I'm fine, Mical," she said quickly. "Thanks for asking, though."

He nodded. "Of course."

Out of the corner of her eye, Igrayne caught Carina watching them, and it made her smile. "I think someone wants to talk to you."

Mical gave her a confused look. "What? Who?"

Igrayne motioned toward Carina, and gradually Mical looked over at her. Having been caught staring, Carina blushed, forced a smile, and looked away, disappearing around a corner down an adjacent hallway.

Mical looked back to Igrayne. "Oh."

She giggled. "'Oh' is right! Go talk to her!"

"I—" Mical began to protest, but Igrayne pushed him away, shooing him with her hands.

He relented then, deciding that he couldn't avoid Carina forever. Perhaps if he settled things with her, they could be friends and he could move on with his life. At least, that was his mindset as he rounded the hallway.

Carina was leaning on one of the walls, eyes closed as if she was deep in thought. Mical cleared his throat to announce his presence, and her eyes snapped open, and her hand flew to her chest.

"Force, Mical," she breathed. "You scared me."

"My apologies." He sounded so cold. Too cold.

She furrowed her brow. "Need something?"

Mical almost blushed. Igrayne had been wrong. She didn't want to talk to him. And now he was left in an awkward position. "Just...making sure you're all right."

She smiled. "I'm doing great...thanks for asking."

Mical gave her a polite nod of his head in response.

"So," she began, looking at him curiously. "How are _you_ doing?"

Such a simple question...but Mical didn't know how to answer it. He couldn't tell her the truth. The truth was that he was miserable, but she couldn't know that. He had to at least try to fight his feelings...otherwise he feared he'd fall into the same trap he had before.

"Fine," he said simply.

Carina quirked her mouth in a questioning manner. "You don't look fine." He raised his eyebrows at that. "I mean, not that you don't look handsome, because you do—" His eyebrows went higher, and she blushed. "I—I mean, uh, you just look different...but not in a bad way! I—oh!" She clapped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment, to stop her rambling.

Mical couldn't help but smile at her, his harsh expression fading.

After a moment, Carina uncovered her mouth, still blushing. "I'm making a fool out of myself, aren't I?"

"Of course not," Mical assured her.

This seemed to assuage her fears for the moment. Silence seemed to fall then, and it brought an uncomfortable awkwardness with it. Mical shuffled from foot to foot nervously, while Carina played with a strand of her hand to distract herself.

She glanced up at him, noticing he was looking down. He _was_ handsome; she hadn't been lying before when it'd slipped out. Of course, she could vaguely remember a time when he looked a lot younger, and cleaner...but his light beard did not detract from his good looks. She found it disappointing that she couldn't remember more than a few bits and details about him. They had once been close, that much she knew...and there was a part of her that missed that closeness.

Mical was feeling just as torn as Carina was, though he wouldn't have known that she felt the same. In his mind, she was a distant woman that just happened to look like the one he'd once loved. In his mind, Carina—the woman he loved—was still dead. She had died on Korriban the moment she turned against him, shunning him altogether. She had thrown his love back in his face, after having beaten and broken it.

Carina stopped playing with her loose strand of hair and looked directly at Mical.

After a moment, he noticed that she was looking at him.

She forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work. His frown increased. She looked down, away from him. This was growing increasingly awkward, and she couldn't think of anything to do to cure it. He was distant, so _cold_. No matter what she did, he seemed to try and separate himself from her. Whatever she'd done to him, it had obviously been horrible.

Strangely enough, Mical was thinking about the horrible betrayal she'd caused him. He feared that she would do it again...and if she did, what would happen to him? He could not take a second betrayal. But Force, did he miss her.

_She's been through hell. She needs you more than you think._

Carth's words suddenly rang through his mind. He was right. She _had_ been through a lot. Was he to deny her a little bit of happiness? Was he to deny himself that as well? He felt so confused. There was a part of him that refused to fall in love again, but the other part that felt that she deserved a second chance.

Suddenly, he looked at her...as if really seeing her for the first time, though she wasn't sure what had caused the change. "What? What is it?"

"It's—" Mical began, finding it hard to find his voice. "It's just...it's like you're back from the dead."

Carina looked down.

Mical quieted, realizing that that probably wasn't the best thing to tell someone. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" he started.

Abruptly, Carina practically fell into his arms, embracing him as if her life depended on it, resting her face in the crook of his neck. His eyes widened, but slowly he wrapped his arms around her as well.

Instead of ruining the moment with words, Carina said nothing, relishing in the comfort she found in this man. She might not have remembered him completely, and he might not have forgiven her completely, but for the moment, their past was forgotten...and nothing else seemed to matter.


	24. The High Stakes Pazaak Game

Through all of this, Jene merely watched and smiled, swirling his drink around in his glass before tipping the whole thing back in one swig. The drink left a burning trail as it slid down his gullet, and he let a sigh of relief escape his lips as the devil-water began to take hold. He absentmindedly shuffled his Pazaak deck, although he didn't intend to play anytime soon. It made him look like he had a reason to be scanning the game tables with his mismatched eyes, his stony gaze passing over the players' faces like a sort of natural scanner. He disliked Pazaak; it was a game that relied more on luck than anything else, with no way to change the odds besides hoping—or perhaps cheating. Jene preferred games that required skill, something most card games lacked, although he still played a decent hand at such gambles simply by virtue of reading his opponents, and pressuring their minds as necessary. It was amazing how much someone could change a card game like Pazaak with nothing more than a blink or a stare at the right place, to the right person.

Reading people was one of Jene's specialties, developed through years of honest business and decades of dishonest survival on the streets of foul world-cities, like the one he was on now. And, as his eyes passed over the face of the scoundrel called Atton, his own mild pleasure faded. The man, once losing badly (and Jene knew it), seemed to be turning around. His confidence wasn't feigned, to be sure, and in a gambler who had almost lost everything—his lie about a droid had told that; Jene knew the man had no droid—that could only mean things were really turning around.

No matter— the bounty hunter had ways of dealing with unintended success, and as it turned out things were swinging his way after all. Two of the others, the disgraced admiral and the blonde child, or so Jene thought of him, had left the vicinity, and the others were too engrossed in their games to pay much attention. Stripped of their guidance, Atton consistently gave into his impulses, and a little bit of charity was something he almost never refused...especially from a young woman.

Taking one last look at the gambler, Jene leaned back in his stool and put his elbows on the bar before leaning his head back to look at the bartender. He knew the bartender, having helped him out with more than just a few unruly patrons back in the day, and had a little bit of clout with him. His momentary stare was all the signal the man needed to come over to Jene's seat, and as he approached the killer-for-hire, Jene whispered, gesturing at Atton,

"I think that man looks like he needs a drink, don't you? He looks too tense, playing cards stone-sober. Give him one on the house; I'll pay it."

The bartender, having been around hunters like Jene long enough, knew what he meant. He poured a strong, dark-colored ale in a glass, pushed it to the edge of the bar, and received Jene's credit chip. It contained money for the drink, plus a heavy tip. The bartender nodded and proceeded to find something very interesting to look at for a while.

Jene reached into a hidden pouch behind one of his belt loops, pulled a small syringe filled with red liquid from it, and dispensed its contents into the ale before mixing it in. There was no discernable change in its color, and the taste would not be significantly affected either. Replacing the syringe in its pouch, he took the ale and walked over to one of the idle bar wenches. This one, a young human with dirty blonde hair and lightly tanned skin, took one look at Jene and rolled her eyes, at which the hunter laughed lightly.

"It's not for you, kid. The gambler over there—light brown eyes, you see? It's his, on the house. You understand?"

He handed her the drink with a chip worth two hundred credits held under it and smiled slightly. She looked at the chip with a cursory glance despite the fact that it was the biggest "tip" she had gotten all night, slipped it in a tiny pocket in her small skirt, and went over to the Pazaak table with a smile on her face.

Jene slipped outside, found HK-47, and spoke,

"HK-47, status."

"Statement: cameras and scanners are in place, Master. Situation normal; meatbags talking to one another and intoxicating themselves."

"And our targets?"

"Statement: situation also normal. Target meatbags fraternizing with each other, male meatbags keeping watch on female meatbags. Addendum: ...some more attentively than others, Master."

"Thank you, HK-47. Continue monitoring situation closely. If any transmission from our allies comes in, contact me. Otherwise, hold position."

"Affirmation: yes, Master."

"And HK...no killing anyone."

"Resigned affirmation: *sigh* yes, Master."

--------------

As the next few vital rounds played out in a rather promising game of Pazaak, there was no doubt in Atton's mind that he would win the match. His current opponent, a male Twi'lek of a vibrant shade of cerulean, was becoming increasingly irritated at the concept of being bested by a lowly human scoundrel...just like the previous three opponents Atton had beaten. Indeed, against all odds that were previously stacked against him, the man's winning streak had finally returned to him. His remarkable luck had even drawn quite the crowd, as several onlookers had gathered around the Pazaak table, intently watching the game unfold.

It was the Twi'lek's turn, as the dealer flipped him a card which happened to be a +4. It brought the alien's total to 19 and he decided to stand with his current score. It was a solid number, and likely for a win. Only a 19 or a 20 in Atton's hand could tie or win the game.

Atton's current hand equaled 17. He needed a +3 card to win or a +2 to tie the match. Both cards were incredibly unlikely to draw from the deck, and there were no cards left in his own deck that would work in his favor. The next card could make or break him…it meant moving on the next round or being eliminated by the competition.

Before deciding on his move, Atton pivoted his head slightly, peering through the crowd to see if Evy was anywhere in the vicinity. The women had apparently exited the stage in order to take a literal breather from their prolonged singing and dancing. The women had made a solid profit; that much was clear. Their talent had undoubtedly earned them a great deal of the required credits for repairing the ship and getting off-planet…but Atton still wondered if it would be enough. If only he could only earn the credits to get everyone off planet, he could show Evy how much she truly meant to him. And he could focus on getting Tren to stay away from her in the process.

_C'mon, sweets… Be my Lady Luck tonight…_

He finally managed to pull his thoughts back to the table, turning his attention back to the game before him. With no other choice, Atton gestured to the dealer, signaling for him to draw a card from the deck. The crowd waited anxiously as the card was dealt, and it seemed that the dealer took an extraordinarily long time in revealing it.

At long last, the dealer flipped over Atton's card and the crowd gasped in surprise. The card proudly displayed a +3, bringing Atton's score to a perfect 20 and winning the match.

Atton let out a celebratory yell, rising from his seat as the Twi'lek banged his hand against the table in an act of anger while cursing in his foreign tongue. Several cheers from various onlookers joined in his excitement and the dealer struggled to make his voice heard over the ruckus.

"Well, that's game!" the dealer said, calculating Atton's current winnings. "Mr. Rand moves to the next round and into the finals. Your next opponent will be here shortly but first, we'll have a brief intermission."

The Twi'lek who had lost the match stalked off angrily as Atton mentally congratulated himself on a game well-won. The crowd dispersed for the moment until the next round began. In Atton's moment of glory, he was somewhat surprised to feel a suggestive hand upon his shoulder. He turned quickly, fully expecting to see Evy standing near him, and was somewhat disappointed to see one of the waitresses sidling up to him.

"Congratulations on your win," she said happily, grinning widely at him. "Please enjoy a drink, compliments of the bar."

She leaned in close to him, perhaps too close, before presenting him with a glass filled with dark liquid.

"Hey, thanks."

Atton didn't bother hiding his pride as he returned a smile, and he briefly allowed his gaze to trail from her blonde mass of hair, all the way down to her remarkably small skirt and shapely legs.

She seemed to notice his mild interest in her, so she blew him a kiss, uttering a brief "good luck" before sauntering back into the crowd. Atton couldn't help but stare after her for a moment, holding the drink in his hand.

"Oh, that's real classy. I'm sure your girl would just love that fact that you're staring at another woman's assets."

Atton turned his head to see Trinn standing beside him, with her arms crossed across her chest. She had apparently witnessed the exchange that had just taken place.

"What?!" he scoffed. "That's ridiculous! I was _not _staring at her."

"Don't give me that crap," said Trinn, rolling her eyes. "I know how men are. You're just like the rest of them. What Evy sees in you is beyond me…"

"Gee, thanks," he said bitterly. "Thanks a lot."

Atton casually took a sip of the potent beverage while Trinn watched him.

"You sure you want to get yourself hammered before the next round? That may not be such a good idea. People are relying on you, ya know."

"Listen, don't tell me how to play my game, all right?" he snapped. "For your information, alcohol clears my thoughts, helps me focus better. I'll have a damn drink if I want to. I think I deserve it."

Just to prove his point, Atton downed the rest of the beverage in one swig, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He was aware of an unusually strong burning sensation within his throat, but he thought nothing of it. Many of Nar Shaddaa's alcoholic drinks could pack quite a punch.

Trinn continued to stare at him incredulously, deciding to ignore his lack of foresight.

"The next round is starting soon, so you'd better get yourself ready. I'll stick around for a while since everyone else seems preoccupied at the moment."

Atton nodded, resuming his place as the Pazaak table to meet his new opponent. A gruff-looking woman now sat across from him, shuffling her deck of cards in a rather imposing manner. They both gave a nod, indicating that they were ready, and the dealer distributed the cards as a crowd once again began to form. The next match had begun.

As Atton moved to place his bet, he noted that the room suddenly began to feel remarkably hot. He tugged at his jacked collar at the sudden discomfort, but he ignored it as a side-effect of anxiousness and moved his chips toward the center of the table.

"I'll wager 2,500," he stated confidently, but he began to squirm uncomfortably in his seat. Atton suddenly felt as if he was burning, on fire, and within seconds he began to perspire rather profusely. His body gave a shudder as he tried to shake it off, and he forced a smile to let his opponent and the crowd know that he was all right. Showing any sign of weakness could mean disaster.

"Haha, is it hot in here or is it just me?" he deadpanned, drawing curious glances from several of the onlookers, including his opponent. Trinn noticed his uncharacteristic behavior, leaning in close to him as to not draw too much attention to their conversation.

"What the hell are you doing?! You're not letting your nerves get to you now, are you?"

"I don't know what happened," he whispered to her through clenched teeth. "I felt fine until a couple of minutes ago…"

A horribly unpleasant suddenly sensation washed over him and it took all of his might to prevent himself from collapsing out of his chair. Atton laid down his first card and instantly knew it was a bad move. He couldn't focus any longer with such an awful feeling overwhelming him.

"Damn it, Atton, I told you not to drink anything…"

At the mention of the beverage that Atton had drank, Trinn's mind flashed to the last few minutes before the game, and she distinctly remembered the concoction that Atton was drinking and the waitress who seemed pleased to give it to him. Given Atton's current state of health, it all made sense.

"Oh, _frack_… I think I know what's wrong with you," she hissed, feeling absolutely horrified about what was happening. "Just uh…try and stay calm while I go and get Mical. Whatever you do, don't panic and attract attention to yourself."

Atton placed a protective hand around his waist and he began to feel quite nauseous, but he continued on with the game, watching as his opponent made a move.

"Wait a second," he called after Trinn, momentarily forgetting that he was in the middle of a highly important Pazaak tournament. "What should I be panicking about?!"

As she made her way across the crowded cantina, Trinn's eyes scanned the room, and to her relief, she caught a glimpse of Mical exiting the backstage area. She bolted to him as fast as the swarm of bar patrons allowed, and by the way she approached him, he could tell that something was not right.

"Mical," she said, feeling slightly out of breath. "Something's wrong with Atton. I think he's been poisoned!"

"What? How?"

"Some waitress gave him a spiked drink. He's at the Pazaak table right now. You need to help him!"

Mical nodded gravely, remaining perfectly calm in his current dilemma. Only his furrowed brow was a testament to the worry that began to swell within him.

"I will do what I can. Take me to him."

Upon arriving back to the Pazaak table, both Trinn and Mical were alarmed to see that Atton was no longer at the table. In fact, he was nowhere in plain sight. It seemed that quite a fuss was occurring, and Mical could clearly overhear some of the bar patrons were enthusiastically chatting about the current lull in the game. Atton's female opponent seemed particularly peeved about the whole situation. The dealer, however, was leaning casually against the card table, not bothering to stop the ruckus that had occurred.

"Excuse me," said Mical, approaching him. "But where did this woman's opponent go? He's a friend of mine."

"Guy got up in the middle of the game and made a mad dash to the 'fresher," the man said, looking sympathetic. "He looked mighty ill, too. Poor fella probably had one too many drinks, eh?"

"Yes, that's what I'm afraid of. May he have a replacement while he takes a break? This fine young woman would be happy to be his stand-in for the time being."

To her surprise, Mical gestured to Trinn, and she immediately glared at him. She didn't even have time to object as the dealer looked her over, nodding his head in approval.

"Sure, that's fine as long as he gets back before the end of the match."

"Thank you, thank you very much," Mical said hastily. He mouthed a quick apology to Trinn for placing her in such a situation, before making his way to the men's room. On his way there, he grabbed an empty glass from the edge of the bar and took it with him.

Mical entered the 'fresher and his eyes fell upon Atton, who was resting his hands against one of the sinks in order to keep himself righted. He looked as if he were having great difficultly breathing, as he took in deep, ragged breaths of air. It required a great deal of strength for him to pivot his head in order to look at Mical, but he said nothing… he merely looked miserable.

Mical didn't waste any time as he filled the empty glass in the faucet with water, grasping Atton's shoulder in order to get his attention. He handed the full glass to Atton, looking at him sternly.

"Here. Drink this. All of it."

"What's happening to me?" Atton asked weakly, grasping for the cup. His vision had began to blur dangerously and the room spun around him in a series of hazy colors, so it was with difficultly that he kept his gaze focused on Mical.

"Your body is beginning to shut itself down due to the effects of the poison." He took Atton's wrist and quickly calculated his pulse, noting that his heart rate was far too rapid. "Are you feeling any pain? Discomfort? Be as vivid as you possibly can."

"I…can't explain it…I just…I feel like I'm on fire."

Mical's brow furrowed in concern as he placed a palm to his forehead. Atton's skin was burning with fever, and he was becoming paler with each passing moment. Much of the color had already drained from his face. It was obvious that the poison was working its way through his system, and fast.

"I can only imagine how you must feel at the moment, but you need to stay alert. Just finish drinking that and try to remain calm."

Atton downed the rest of the water, but his body was soon wracked by another wave of pain. He nearly toppled over, but Mical managed to keep him upright. As Mical worked on keeping Atton steady, the door to the 'fresher suddenly opened, and both men were surprised to see Tren, of all people, enter the room.

"What the hell happened?" Tren demanded. "I was drinking with Dustil when we noticed that Atton wasn't at the Pazaak table anymore…and the next thing you know, everyone disappears into the little boys' room…"

His gaze fell to Atton, who was struggling to keep himself upright as he leaned all of his weight against the sink to prevent his knees from buckling beneath him. A deep frown was instantly upon his features at the sight.

"Oh man, he's really sick isn't he? I haven't seen him look this bad since…well…since the last time he almost died."

Mical's eyes narrowed at Tren's sudden intrusion.

"Tren, now is really not the time!"

He ignored his comment and made his way over to his best friend, placing a comforting hand upon his back.

"It's okay, man. I'm here for you buddy."

"Don't touch me!"

"Well damn, you're mean when you're sickly!"

Tren recoiled, slightly taken aback by Atton's unusual behavior, and he watched as Mical pulled a small medical kit from his pouch. Meanwhile, Atton tore off his jacket to compensate for the unbearable fire burning beneath his skin. Whatever Mical was going to do to him, he didn't care, so long as he didn't have to suffer any longer.

"You carry that thing everywhere?" Tren asked, as Mical searched for the necessary medical supplies.

"I have always believed in being prepared," he said, quickly selecting the appropriate vial and a syringe from its contents. "People's lives may depend upon it."

"For Force's sake," Atton said breathlessly. "Help me!"

Without his consent, Mical grasped the rim of Atton's pants, shamelessly tugging them down slightly to reveal some skin.

"Whoa, Mical…when he said 'help me' I don't think he meant like _that_…I thought you had a thing for Carina?"

Tren's attempt at humor during his friend's predicament fell upon deaf ears as Mical stuck the needle into Atton's hip, eliciting a sharp howl of pain. Atton's nerves were on fire and the simple shot sent an unpleasant shockwave through his system. Even Tren winced at his friend's misfortune.

"Damn it," Atton whimpered. "What the hell is it with you and jabbing me with needles?!"

"My sincerest apologies," Mical said as he finished emptying the contents of the syringe. "But it is necessary."

"Yeah, well, it hurt! What was in that thing?"

"It's a universal antidote that will counteract the poison that's flowing through your body at the moment. The pain that you just felt is nothing compared to what may have taken place; I can assure you of that. But I warn you, there will definitely be some intended side effects."

"Side effects", he groaned, "like what?"

As if on cue, a wave of nausea suddenly hit Atton like a wall of bricks, and he felt on the verge of collapsing. Atton clutched his stomach and swayed dangerously, but Mical and Tren managed to keep him steady once again. He gave a horrible moan, leaning over the sink.

"The antidote will induce vomiting in order to get the poison out of your system. I'm so sorry, Atton…"

"Oh man," Tren said, "if he's gonna hurl, I'm out of here…"

Mical continued to sort through his medical supplies, ignoring Tren's comment.

"The next few minutes will not be pleasant, Atton, but there's nothing else that I can do. If we were in a proper medical facility—"

Mical was cut off as when Atton leaned over the sink, retching quite violently. Tren placed a hand upon his back in a small act of comfort, although he looked quite ill himself, and Mical produced a simple piece of cloth from his pouch. He scurried over to another sink and poured cool water over it before making his way back to Atton as he held the damp cloth to the back of his neck.

"Man, he looks bad," whispered Tren, shaking his head sadly. "Mical, do you think he's going to make it?"

"He should be all right. I have a few more medications that I can administer, but he needs to expunge the poison from his system first."

"Do you think we should go get Evy? You know, fill her in on her beau's current situation? I think she ought to know."

Mical shook his head firmly as he continued to hold the cloth in place. "No, we cannot worry the women at such a vital time in the evening, especially if they are to perform again. If he worsens, then we will have no choice. But for the time being I will update Carth on our tenuous situation. You'll have to watch over him for a few moments until I return. I trust that you can handle this?"

Tren nodded, although he made a rather disgusted face as Atton continued to vomit. If he kept it up, he just might join him.

"Yeah, of course. Anything for Atton."

"Good. I shall return shortly. Make sure that he stays awake. If he passes out, don't leave him to come find me. Just keep him comfortable until I return."

"Sure thing, man."

Mical hurriedly made his way out of the 'fresher, leaving Tren to care for his friend. Tren felt somewhat awkward, as he was never used to being a nurturer, so he settled for patting Atton's back occasionally, reassuring him with a comforting word or two. After another prolonged bout of being ill, Atton finally managed to find a bit of strength to speak again.

"After all the things I've been through, I'm gonna die in a cantina 'fresher."

"You're not going to die," Tren reassured him. "Just hang in there; we'll get you through this."

Atton highly doubted that anything could possibly help him at the moment, and he sorely wished that things in the cantina would not have turned out as they did. Atton wanted nothing more than to get off the stench-ridden planet of Nar Shaddaa with Evy by his side, with the courage to love her like she deserved. It seemed far too long a time since they had truly enjoyed each other's company without interruption, and Atton longed to feel her presence near him. But first, he had to find the strength to get through his current dilemma…

_Oh, Evy_… he thought as another wave of nausea overwhelmed him. _Where are you?_

_------------_

Jene sat down at the bar again, claimed the half-gone glass of a drunk who had passed out moments before, and sipped it. Hygiene wasn't one of his primary concerns, but appearing as if he had already been there was. A guy sipping his drink was less noticeable than a guy ordering a drink at the bar, and whatever he could do to blend in he would. He sipped from the glass, put it down on the bar behind him, and looked around him. He was aware that his plan to cut off the scoundrel's winning streak had worked and that he had been replaced by someone else—a female scoundrel, no less. He hoped she didn't have the sort of luck that her predecessor did, but he had interrupted the flow of play, and sometimes that was enough. It also took at least a few of his marks out of the equation for a while and reminded them that he had not forgotten them.

_No, my little pests, you are never forgotten._

Safe in the knowledge that he had done what he could short of blasting them to pieces right then and there, and that HK was watching them every step of the way, he allowed himself to relax a bit. He scanned the room with his cold eyes, looking for something to focus on.

What he found himself looking at was the young serving girl he had enlisted earlier, and more specifically the man she was having a "chat" with. He was obviously inebriated and making advances that were obviously unwelcome—obvious, that is, to everyone except the man in question. Ordinarily, he would have taken little notice, but there was something about her...she reminded him of his daughter. That must have been it. Older by over a decade, for sure, but the resemblance was there. Her eyes, the stare she gave the man was exactly the same that little Alles—"Ally"—Cyrus had given her father once...

_"Daddy, why won't you let me go?"_

_"You're not old enough, Ally. There'll be big kids there, and big kids don't always play nice. I don't want you hurt."_

_Ally stared at him with her light green eyes—not as shockingly bright as her mother's, nor as distinctive as her father's, but just as piercing as both—but said nothing. Jene, who was still an honest mechanic in the days before the Sith came, looked back at her and found it surprisingly hard to meet her gaze. It was the sort of quiet, sharp glare that seemed to have the power to move entire mountains, and in a child so young it was an astounding thing to see. Jene put down his hydrospanner and slid his chair away from his desk, but he didn't cave in to his daughter's forceful glare._

_"You can go when you're older, Ally. There will be more parties. Next year, I promise."_

_Ally, a six-year-old girl from a desert planet whose idea of a fun time was taking pot-shots at vermin with the tiny stun pistol her father had made for her for her—after caving in to just such a stare as this one—curled her lips into a tiny frown, crossed her arms, and stared._

_"I can take care of myself, Daddy. I can go."_

_This time, Jene knew he couldn't give in. There were some things he just had a bad feeling about, and this was such a one._

_"Next year, Ally. That's the end."_

_By the next year, little Ally was dead, killed by Sith soldiers. She died with her stun pistol in hand, shooting at the men at the door with blasts that were hopelessly useless against Sith armor, but she fired anyway. She had tried taking care of herself, but in the end Jene had been right: she just wasn't big enough._

This man was at least a head taller than the young server girl, and he looked strong enough to be dangerous. Jene fell out of his flashback with uncharacteristic sadness hidden in some dark corner of his mind, and he knew what would need to be done. He watched the situation with barely-contained anger, and his years of conditioning were all that kept him from putting a blaster bolt between the drunk's eyes right then and there. Soon, he would get his chance.

The time came sooner than he anticipated. The serving girl, now thoroughly disgusted by the man, tried to walk away and out the door to escape him, but as she walked away the man followed with a slyness that told Jene this was not his first time at such a "game." However, no matter how good the man was, Jene was better. He waited until they were both almost to the door, then he got up and began to follow them. They walked out of the bar and into an alley. The word echoed in his mind...

_Alley. Ally. Alley...Ally. Ally. I don't want you hurt. Ally..._

The man was almost behind the serving girl—Ally—and Jene was a meter behind them both, as silent as a shadow and half as bright.

She stopped. He pulled a vibroblade from his belt. She turned, and began to scream. His hand reached out...

And suddenly a hand fell over his mouth, and he felt himself yanked back. Another hand, with a grip as strong as durasteel and twice as hard, grabbed the man's right hand where he held the vibroblade and snapped it back. His scream was muffled by the cupped hand as his arm shattered, and his unseen assailant twisted the broken arm behind him before driving the vibroblade into his back. The girl's would-be attacker spat blood into Jene's hand as the blade ripped through his body, sending shocks of pain up and down his body. He fell as Jene's foot kicked the man's legs out from under him, and the force of the impact drove the blade even further into him. The girl screamed, but the bounty hunter took little notice. He calmly took a machine pistol from his left-hand holster and pounded bolt after bolt into the man, ending his suffering in a hail of red light.

"Don't touch her," Jene growled at the corpse between clenched teeth, and spat on the mangled body before kicking it in the side one more time as if to ensure that he was really dead. The thoroughly delusional hunter holstered the pistol, turned to the girl, who was now shocked into quiet sobs, and smiled.

"It's all right now. I told you about playing with the big kids, Ally..." He hugged her as if he was her father, and she was too surprised and shocked to do anything about it. "You're safe now," he whispered into her ear before stepping back and pulling something from his back pocket. It was a small hold-out pistol that he reserved for emergency situations, modified to be as strong as a normal blaster in a pinch. He pressed it into her hand, smiled again, and told her, "You're a big girl now, Ally, so you can have this. You can take care of yourself now. Happy birthday, hon."

As the serving girl dropped to her knees in a near-faint from the events that had just transpired, Jene walked away feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He couldn't save his real daughter, but he saved this girl who looked so much like her...and somehow that brought closure for Ally's death. _She's a big girl now_, he thought in his adrenaline-fueled delusion, _and she doesn't need me to protect her anymore_.

Forgetting all about his marks for a moment, he walked away into the streets, only later regaining enough of a grip on reality to activate his tracking beacon for HK to follow. They were done for today...and now he needed a new hold-out pistol anyway.

--------------

Bao-Dur's roughened hands worked deftly, his trusty hydrospanner tucked for the time being in his tool belt as he loosened a bolt with his bare hands. His remote floated around his head, constantly surveying his creator's progress and lending a helping "hand" when needed.

It was like this, in intense work, that the Zabrak was allowed any peace. Force meditation used to have the same calming effect on him as the technical work did, but not any longer. As he had sat, in a perfect lotus position, closing down his physical senses one by one, he was haunted by thoughts of her.

Not too long ago, Igrayne had been his strength. Their powers and skills seemed multiplied as they created an amazing synergy between them. The shared bond created by the Force, their love, and their powerfully carnal yet spiritual encounters forged a connection between them that Bao-Dur had falsely thought was unbreakable.

Now he knew better.

Slowly, silently, their bond had weakened. Their differences had proven to be too much. How could he had ever thought that two people so different could ever exist as one?

And now, whatever was left of their once cherished bond was being burned. Igrayne was letting it happen as she grew closer to Dustil in her need to not be alone. But Bao had no one to seek comfort from, no one to distract him from the growing emptiness in his soul.

Once Zabraks chose a life partner, a Tai Shan, they mated for life. Bao-Dur understood that Igrayne was human, and he would not bind her to such laws of his species. But he would hold to it simply because he could do no differently. When he had taken the beautiful Jedi as his Tai Shan, he had bound himself inextricably to her and only her for the rest of his life.

To others, Bao-Dur seemed so in control of his emotions that often they erroneously assumed he did not feel as intensely as they did. In truth, Bao was hurt, angry, depressed, overwhelmed, and grieving. No one could know just by looking at him or even by speaking to him; such was the strength of his serene presence.

With a sudden jerk, Bao dropped his hydrospanner and grasped his hand to his chest. He had become so distracted with his thoughts of Igrayne that his grip on the tool had slipped, pinching the skin of his hand painfully beneath it. The sharp pain brought him back to his senses.

The _Centurion's Blade_ was currently in flyable condition, although not all of the repairs had been completed. The Jedi knew that the entire crew was in grave danger. Even in his distracted state, he could feel the evil approaching through the Force. They would most probably need to get off the Smuggler's Moon soon, and Bao-Dur didn't want to be stranded much longer if at all possible.

He took a second to inspect his wound. The pain had ebbed, even if his fingertip was a bit tender. As he made sure the pinch had not broken the skin, he heard a faint step…it almost sounded like a footfall.

Suddenly, his focus was back as adrenaline rushed through his body. He could sense it now, an unwelcome presence. Bao unclasped his tool belt, placing it as quietly as he could on the table beside him in the garage of the _Blade_. His hand found his lightsaber, and he held the warm metal of it and slipped into the shadowy corner—quickly followed by the remote—just as two figures entered the hold.

"That Sith lord will be here quicker than we think. Let's hack into the communications records and see if we can track down their hiding place," the fully armored man said, his voice metallic under his helmet.

"I say we just destroy this stinkin' ship," the ebon-haired woman replied. She pulled out her blaster and trained it on the open electronics panel.

"They can find another ship, but they can't come back to life… save your charges," the man replied, gently resting his hand on the barrel of her gun.

The woman looked at the trooper, her mismatched eyes dangerously threatening, before she dropped her gaze along with the aim of her blaster. "All right, we'll do it your way…this time. Just don't get used to this."

The trooper's armor clanked as he nodded curtly, then he stalked off out of the room, presumably to the communications console.

The woman stayed behind, however, her eyes narrowing, the normal one more than the red damaged one, as she studied the open panel. Her face twisted into a horrible grin, and Bao-Dur did not need to try to read her thoughts to know what she was about to do. This woman loved destruction.

In a flash, the Jedi had his lightsaber out and pointed at the woman's throat.

"Hiding in the shadows? How very Jedi-like," she commented, her face betraying not an ounce of fear. Even through the Force it was hard to read her, almost as if a static-like layer of past emotions clouded her every present thought.

"Leave this place and I won't hurt you," Bao-Dur said, his voice as even and trained as ever.

Caine scoffed. "Right…like I believe that one."

A soft poke alerted Bao-Dur that her blaster was pointed right at his belly.

"Quite a pickle we've found ourselves in, eh?" she asked, the mirthless grin once again adorning her face.

Even with the cool muzzle of the blaster pointed at his belly, Bao-Dur was completely calm and collected. His Jedi training had taught him to be even-tempered in times of crises, and this was certainly as good a time as any to implement his lessons. His hands kept their grip on the lightsaber's hilt, which could have easily slipped from his grasp had he been sweating.

"So it's like this. Either I step on you like the pathetic little pest you are, or…"

"Or I kill you," Bao-Dur offered. Caine smiled as if welcoming the proposition.

"And my partner here carves up your guts for some new armor, and we track down your friends anyway. Either way, it's your choice. But choose carefully…it may be the last decision you ever make." As she said this, her thumb cocked back the blaster's hammer, ready for action.

"What do you want?" the Zabrak said in an unhurried tone of voice. He was quietly assessing the distance from the woman to the man, and discerning how quickly he would need to move in order to evade the blasterfire of the man's discharged weapon. Assuming his calculations were correct, he would be able to pull off some kind of escape with minimal damage to the communications console behind him.

"Just save us the trouble of having to dig through your manuals, and tell us where your friends are," Caine said through gritted teeth. Her one red eye was glowing in the dim, flickering light of the dilapidated ship's main hold. Though Bao-Dur had not been frightened before by the woman who was slight in stature, he felt his chest knot up with anxiety.

It was then he noticed the silent remote, hovering just beyond one of the ship's many passageways, its seeker training on the trooper standing near. The sleek silver sphere, which Bao-Dur had armed with a cutting laser, was preparing to fire upon the trooper in conjunction with its master's programming.

When the Zabrak reached out a hand to counter that command, Caine snapped immediately into defensive mode. She fired a shot which lodged deep in the flesh of Bao's organic arm, eliciting a restrained cry from the wounded Zabrak. Despite the fresh wound, he wasted no time in using his lightsaber to deflect the other oncoming charges from the trooper's massive underslung blaster carbine.

Chaos erupted in the main hold, as a flurry of blaster bolts converged upon the room, completely obliterating the communications console and nicking the durasteel bulkheads which had just been polished as a complimentary service by the dock master Quello's best mechanic. In the ensuing pandemonium, Bao-Dur slipped out of the main hold and stumbled along one of the ship's passages to the boarding ramp. After he descended the ramp, the remote chirruping as it followed along in his stead, a few more shots rung out, deflected by the metal interior of the ship's passage.

"We must quickly locate the others," the Zabrak said breathily to the remote. The wound on his arm was burning with a searing pain, but he ignored it as he began trotting toward Nar Shaddaa's entertainment promenade.

-----------------

Atton laid on the 'fresher floor with his back propped up against the wall, trying to defuse the feelings of nausea Mical had worked so hard to induce in him. He was certain his stomach had emptied itself of all the poison, but his queasiness remained. He mopped up sweat from his brow with the backside of his arm, his heart pumping away at an unnatural speed. Tren sat nearby, cross-legged, calmly studying Atton's face for any sign of change in the scoundrel's condition just in case he needed to make a mad dash to fetch Mical.

"You all right?" the younger man said, attempting to thaw the chill between them. Tren's attempts at being a nurturer consisted of asking Atton this same question every five minutes. The scoundrel, understandably peevish by now, made no attempt to disguise his growing irritation.

"Yeah…yeah, I think so."

Just when he believed the queasiness to have subsided, it resurfaced again. Atton hunched over the sink as he retched for the fourth and final time, his posture betraying the fragile state he was now in. Tren stood up and put a hand on the other man's shoulder, offering him a towel to dry his face on. Atton took it and attempted to clean up the mess.

"Really? Because you've looked better…"

Cupping his hands full of fresh water from the sink, Atton sluiced his face in the icy water and took a deep breath. He felt refreshed and relieved to have the poison out of his system.

"Remind me never to accept drinks from strange women again," he muttered under his breath, for once not joking.

"You wanna guess who it was who put her up to this?"

"I've no doubt about it being Cyrus."

"My thoughts exactly. That little worm really pulled one below the belt this time."

The cantina music pulsed through the 'fresher door, which was slightly ajar. Atton could hear Evy's sweet, singsong voice drifting through to assault his ears once again with fresh images of her and Tren. Just the thought of it was beginning to make him boil over with rage.

"So, it's a good thing you came to my rescue," he said half-accusatorily. The other man took no notice of his tone of voice.

"It was mostly Mical. But hey, if you want to give me credit, sure, go right ahead."

"I mean," Atton began, trying again, "it was real good of you to take time out of your busy schedule of ogling my woman to come and lend a hand."

"Ogling your woman?" Tren appeared puzzled. "Atton, I don't know what you're ta—"

"'Course not. All I've listened to all night is 'Celeste, I'm your biggest fan!' and 'Celeste, would you sign right HERE?' What do you think I am, some kind of idiot? I know you're after her. And don't think for one minute that you have my approval."

"Did that poison somehow jog your brain? Why are you acting like this, bro?"

"Whatever. I'm not your bro. Just leave me alone," Atton replied, shrugging off the concerned hand Tren had placed on his shoulder. Slightly bewildered, the younger man stood and walked toward the door.

"I'll go get Mical. You're not acting like yourself."

"On the contrary, for once I'm seeing clearly."

Trentyn exited the 'fresher to seek out the doctor while Atton supported himself against the wall, feeling his anger swell to a crescendo inside of him. He balled his palms into fists, resisting the urge to reach out and strike something just for the heck of it. It was growing more and more difficult to control these dark urges, and for once he totally understood the ease with which Carina had fallen to the dark side.

---------------

The encore performance of Celeste and the Vixens had extended into another hour-long set when the enthusiastic bar-goers and patrons had refused to let them leave the stage. As soon as the women began inching their way toward the short flight of steps to descend the stage, the thundering applause would begin anew. Roda Lem was loving every minute of it. The money-hungry creature saw the word "commercial" written all over the dance troupe. This more than marketable foray into a one night business partnership would have to be extended long-term in order to ensure the cantina raked in as much business as it did tonight. Word of mouth had quickly spread, and the crowd had doubled, then tripled, before the act was over.

But when Carina silently noted Mical and Carth conversing in hushed tones, she knew their stay in the Nar Shaddaa cantina was nearly at an end. She managed to garner Igrayne's attention cautiously, so the other Jedi wouldn't mess up her carefully practiced dance moves.

"What do you think's going on?" she queried the red-faced and out of breath woman. A quick nod in Carth's direction notified Igrayne what she was talking about. The other woman shrugged her shoulders.

"Don't know, but it looks important."

"Maybe it's time to end this," Carina whispered.

Evy was in the middle of her tenth song for the night, after having nearly exhausted all of her limited repertoire. She resorted to singing encore rounds of each of the more popular songs, to the delight of the enthusiastic crowd. Even Rani, who had tirelessly worked to create a dance that was both beautiful and enticing, seemed worn out by the long night of performing. Igrayne noticed a definite decline in the precision of her moves, as well as the speed with which she performed them.

"Please tell me this is our last song," Igrayne remarked.

"I hope so. Some of the crowd is nodding off," Rani replied. "Look…see?"

Sure enough, right there in the front row was a tired-looking human, sound asleep in his brandy. After a few more minutes, some more of the crowd began to dissipate, probably too tired to keep their eyes open now that the effects of the alcohol had begun to wear off. The initial joy the crowd had displayed, probably due to the potency of the liquor, had now dissolved into little more than scant applause. Though slightly disappointed, the girls were thrilled when they announced they would be leaving for the night, and signing autographs by the bottom of the stage to those who wanted them.

To no one's surprise, a long line began to form right at the head of the stage. As the women descended to go meet their fans and admirers, Carina broke apart from the others briefly to go intercept Mical on his way to the 'fresher. She placed herself in his path, smiling when she caught his eyes. They had shared a brief but passionate moment right before she was called back onstage to perform again. The memory of it was still very fresh in her mind.

"How are you?" she replied civilly, trying to preface the conversation with small talk.

"On my way to the 'fresher to deal with matters," the doctor said curtly, not meaning to sound rude.

"Matters? Is everything okay? I saw you talking to Carth earlier."

"It is of no matter. Go attend to your admirers. They are waiting for you," the doctor said dismissively. His hands, which had been resting on both of her forearms, swung by his sides as he walked past her and made a beeline for the 'fresher. Carth followed quickly after him, neglecting his duties for the first time that night.

_What is this, some boys' club?_

Carina, feeling slightly dejected that he was all business and no pleasure, walked slowly back toward the large circle of fans which had converged upon the women. Rani was eagerly signing datapads left and right, as was Evy, though Igrayne looked somewhat exasperated by all the excitement. Carina went up and slung an arm around her shoulders.

"Phyre, will you please sign this? Phyre!" a few rabid fans cried, shoving and elbowing their way to the front of her line. Carina gracefully led Igrayne away by the shoulders.

"Fellows, fellows, can't you see my friend is tired? Try again later!" she said, carefully guiding the woman into another section of the cantina where they were sure to be left alone. Igrayne touched a hand to her forehead.

"Thanks for that. They were beginning to paw me."

"Comes with the territory," Carina said with a shrug. Then, a smile lighting her features, she added, "You looked overwhelmed. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am fine. In fact, I feel perfect. Why do you ask?" the woman said nervously. The emotions she was feeling unfortunately weren't lost on Carina, who could sense her deep anxiety and frustration.

"Because you haven't been acting like yourself lately. You've been…different."

"It's just all this running around has made me overtired, I think," Igrayne tactically lied. "Nothing a good night's rest and a bit of dinner won't cure, though."

"I hear you. Want to go get something from the bar to eat?" the woman offered.

"I would love that!" Igrayne said, following her as she bounded toward the bar at a full gallop. No sooner had they reached the bar than they were joined by Dustil. He was nursing a drink in one hand, some sort of red mixture that looked nauseating, and he had one arm slung across the bar top, projecting an aura of cool, calm assurance.

"You ladies in the mood for a drink?" he said, locking eyes with Igrayne. Carina spoke up for the both of them.

"No, thanks. We're getting some dinner."

"It's on me," Dustil offered, flipping the barman a few coins.

"Thank you," Carina replied, though Igrayne didn't echo the sentiment. She instead glared at him, hating how he insinuated himself into every situation. She wished he would just go away and leave her alone. She was confused enough as it was right now.

As if to add to her confusion, Bao-Dur entered the cantina, walking briskly but slowly in an attempt not to draw too much attention to himself. The remote he had built as a child on Iridonia followed closely behind, beeping and booping. Igrayne hadn't seen the thing in what seemed like years. Shortly after they had become…involved…the remote had been deactivated and forgotten. Or so she'd thought…

The barman cast an angry glance at the Zabrak and pointed to the "no droids" sign overhead. Bao turned to the droid and issued it an order to wait outside while he concluded business in here. The droid made an agreeable noise and waited outside.

Igrayne turned several shades brighter as she noticed the Zabrak nearing them, his eyes darting from her face to Dustil and back. As he digested this image, his eyes never leaving her face, he spoke softly to Carina. If he felt any anger, he didn't show it.

"Bao! Is everything all right?" Carina asked, clearly flustered at seeing the Zabrak when he had promised to wait for them aboard the _Blade_.

"I was confronted onboard the ship by the man and the woman—I believe they go by the given names of Cody and Caine—and questioned as to your whereabouts," he explained in a hurried tone of voice. He was wincing, and it was then that Carina saw him clutching his arm in pain.

"You're wounded!"

"It's nothing," he said, applying pressure to it via his mechanical arm. "You must leave now and get the others to safety. I will go warn Carth and Mical."

"They went to the 'fresher. You can find them there," the emerald-eyed woman offered, trying to be helpful. "Bao, is there anything we can do for y—"

"Just do as I ask," the Zabrak issued the command in a clipped tone of voice. "They will soon be here. I am hoping to avoid another confrontation, if at all possible."

He stepped around them, heading toward the 'fresher, locking eyes with Igrayne briefly before departing their company. When he had gone, Dustil remarked with a grin, "Does he ever smile?"

"This is serious," Carina replied. "I'd better go tell Rani and Evy."

"Yes. I'll wait here," Igrayne said, unconsciously clutching her stomach, and amending the action when she realized she was doing it in public. Carina hadn't even caught wind of what was going on, so she was safe as far as the other woman was concerned. It was Bao-Dur she worried about. The way he looked at her implied he knew something of her condition, though she wasn't entirely sure he did. Who could have told him—Mical? The doctor would sooner sacrifice himself than betray the secret of a friend.

"I will go speak to Han and Indy and let them know what's going on," Igrayne informed Dustil.

"We'll go together," he insisted, leaving her no choice in the matter. Side by side, they entered the Pazaak den to scout out the other members of their party.

------------------

When it came to signing autographs for hungry fans, Rani displayed a poise rarely possessed by an ordinary dancer. She ordered the overflowing crowd to form a single file line up to the bottom of the stage and devised a system for moving them through as efficiently as possible. When they were on their last few signatures, Carina came running up, temporarily disrupting the orderliness of the line.

"You guys, something…uh…came up. We need to leave immediately."

Carina was reluctantly goaded into signing a few autographs from the remaining admirers. After Rani and Evy finished, the dark-haired woman planted both hands firmly on her hips.

"Now, what is it? Is something wrong?"

"Well, Bao just came by…he said that Caine and Cody were on the ship or something."

Rani and Evy exchanged worried glances, but the dark-haired woman regained her calm and asked, "Where are the others?"

"In the 'fresher…I think. With Carth, Mical, Atton, and Tren."

"What—is there some kind of party going on in there?" Evy queried.

"My thoughts exactly."

Rani gathered up her meager belongings, which consisted of a small overcoat and a handbag coordinated with her dress, and began walking toward the 'fresher. The others followed along, and were quickly joined by Igrayne, Dustil, Han, Indy, Mithic, and Trinn.

"Don't you think we should be trying to avoid suspicion?" Carina asked.

"It'll be okay," Igrayne calmly assured her.

The crew members crowded into the dingy little 'fresher, where Atton was still lying on the floor, an arm slung across his midsection. He looked at the new arrivals with a pained glance.

"Force, Tren, you said you were going to get Mical, not the whole dmn crew!"

Evy immediately rushed to his side, forgetting for a moment that half the crew was watching her.

"Are you all right? What happened?"

"I'm fine, sweets. Never better," the scoundrel said with a touch of anger. He looked chilled and had a light layer of sweat beading on his forehead. She immediately felt his head for any sign of a fever.

"What happened?"

"A poisoned drink happened, courtesy of our friend Cyrus," Tren explained.

"Poison!" Evy exclaimed. She immediately resorted to nurse mode. "You can't be lying around on a 'fresher floor. It's unsanitary! You need some rest. C'mon, let me take you back to the safehouse…"

"Leave me alone, will you?" Atton shouldered her.

"Evy is right. You are unwell; you are not yourself. We must quickly convey you back to the safehouse to get proper bed rest. You should not be up and walking around so soon after your 'brush with death.'"

"Will everyone just calm the Force down? I'm fine!" the scoundrel declared irritably, shooting to his feet. The resulting queasiness caused him to double over slightly, and Evy put a hand on his back.

"You really should listen to the doctor. He knows best…"

"You know what I'm tired of listening to? People always telling me what to do!"

"Stop yelling at her, Atton. It's not her fault…" Tren said.

Before the scoundrel could come back at him with a smart remark, Carth banged his fist on the wall for control of the conversation. Everyone immediately looked at him, and the admiral smiled.

"Now, that's better. Bao-Dur tells us we've had some visitors on our ship. The two who tried to kill us earlier…Caine and Cody…"

At this point, Carth put a hand on Bao-Dur's shoulder to allow him the chance to speak. "I was working onboard the ship when I sensed a presence…the man and the woman entered. They appeared to be looking through our communications records to try and determine our whereabouts. The ship _was_ in flyable condition before the shootout… Now the communications console is destroyed. As for the rest of it…I can't be sure without a proper assessment whether it is even flyable at this point."

Mithic, who had been listening quietly to the conversation, found his attention distracted by a nagging voice in the back of his head. It warned him that his clone brother, Eklipse, was drawing nearer every minute they wasted in this dump. A sense of urgency overrode everything else he was feeling at that moment.

"Eklipse is coming," he declared. Carth, who had been in the middle of a speech of some kind, shot a glance in his direction. Though the soldier spoke with incredible restraint, none could doubt the insistence in his voice. "We have to move out. Immediately."

"The safehouse is closest," Bao-Dur said quietly. "I suggest we pack up our gear and return to Geriel's abode."

"No. We have to go off planet as soon as possible," Mithic shot back.

"That's impossible," Han interjected, annoyed that he had been interrupted in the middle of his Sabacc game. "The Zabrak already said the ship was banged up by the little run-in with those thugs."

"Looks like we'll have to find ourselves another ship, then," Mithic said determinedly, both of his fists clenched at his sides. He didn't like the fact the scoundrel was attempting to talk down to a man several stations above him.

"Not a chance. Wherever my baby goes, I go," Indy said, jumping in front of Han.

"J-just calm down," Carth stuttered softly. "I'm sure we can iron out the details later. For now, let's just concentrate on getting back to the safehouse. Everyone okay with that?"

The soft murmur of approval was pleasing to Carth. He organized them into three separate groups and told them to leave one at a time to avoid looking suspicious. The first group, which consisted of Carth, Rani, Dustil, Igrayne, and Carina, left first.

"This is a stupid idea," Atton snorted.

"You have a better one?" Tren asked.

"Yeah. It's called 'lie low and wait 'till everything dies down.'"

"How heroic of you."

"At least I'm honest about where I'm coming from," Atton said, mustering up enough strength to practically spit the words at the younger man.

By now, Evy had enough. She physically positioned herself between the two men to separate them, placing a palm on each of their chests. "Oh, for Force's sake! Would you two stop it? We're trying to fly under the radar here, and all you two can do is argue! Put up or shut up!"

After a moment of silence, Tren said, "Look, kitten…"

"Don't you 'look, kitten' me! Both of you are in hot water right now!"

"Me? What did I do?"

A groan of frustration was all the reply Tren received, so he wisely gave up trying to goad her into giving him more information. The petite blonde nurse instead decided to cross her arms and sulk in the corner while waiting a few minutes to give the first group a good head start.

The two men were obediently silent; neither of them wanted to challenge the petite nurse's firm grasp on authority, or do something that would otherwise anger her. Mical gave Atton a quick check-up before the four headed out of the door, flanked on either side by Bao-Dur and Trinn.

The last group, Han, Indy, and Mithic, waited a few moments while peering through the slightly ajar door. The silence was unbearable to Mithic, who could not keep his thoughts from dwelling on Eklipse. A feeling of dread consumed his chest, and his hand, perched precariously on the door handle, began to sweat.

"Are you all right?" Indy asked, momentarily concerned when she noticed the glazed over eyes of her friend. She could tell he was somewhere far away. She pummeled a fist into Han's arm. "Han, do something! He looks sick!"

"What do you want me to do—sing him a lullaby?"

"No, you bantha-brain! Why don't you try and snap him out of it?"

Han roughly took hold of the soldier, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling that he was somehow overstepping his bounds by taking hold of the Republic soldier. Mithic abruptly came to, looking at his whereabouts in a slightly confused manner.

"I…I must've drifted off for a moment there."

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Just don't do that to us again," Indy said, wagging a finger in his face.

The three padded their way along the cantina toward the exit. Most of the establishment's regulars had filtered out by now, giving them a wide berth to make their way to the refugee sector. Thankfully, the walk to their destination was uneventful. They arrived there just as everybody else was filing inside the small but cozy house.

Geriel had gone out, but he programmed his protocol droid with a message that he would return shortly. The silvery droid, whose sheen was replaced by a layer of filth and grime it had no doubt accumulated from walking around in one of the galaxy's dirtiest cities, immediately powered down upon accomplishing its objective. Carth moved it aside and ushered everyone into the main room of the abode. When the door slid shut behind them, most everyone took a seat on the small mats to discuss what was happening.

In the midst of the chaos, Atton sent a glance down at Evy's skimpy dancing attire. The outfit left little to the imagination, and the scoundrel's paranoia accordingly kicked into overdrive.

"Why don't you cover up or something? It's distracting."

Instead of perceiving this to be some sort of sincere concern for her, Evy was offended. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I'm just asking you to cover up."

"You're so insecure that you disapprove of me revealing my body in front of _friends_? Get a grip, Atton. It's not like I'm prancing around naked or anything."

Mical guided Atton by the arm into the men's quarters for some bed rest. Accompanied by Tren and Evy, the scoundrel loudly protested the fact that he was being treated like a child—to which Evy replied, "Well, if you insist on acting like one…"

The scoundrel slipped onto the soft, downy cot with their assistance. The minute his head hit the pillow, he realized the doctor's advice really had been right. He was feeling very tired, and he could no longer ignore the weight of his drooping lids…

"Let him sleep," Mical said to Evy and Tren.

"Maybe it'll make his brain less foggy," Evy remarked. "Since he obviously has issues of some kind…"

The three exited the room, quietly keying the door closed behind them to let the scoundrel relax.

-------------

Igrayne found Rani packing clothes in a small bag in the women's quarters. With the others gathered in the main room, this was her only chance to speak to the woman in private. It was so difficult to get a modicum of privacy while traveling in a huge group. Her secret doctors' visits with Mical further proved this.

Igrayne shut the door, an action which caused Rani to look back.

"Igrayne! I didn't hear you come in. Are you all right?"

"Can we talk?" the brown-haired woman replied, folding both hands meekly in front of her. Her mind was still trying to figure out how she was planning to break the news to the former senator hopeful. Rani had always seemed quite accepting of who she was, even when she had found her and Dustil pressed together in the ship's passageway. And the woman had been pregnant once herself with Destrik's child. If anyone would understand, it was her.

Igrayne took a seat beside her. Then she abruptly stood, realizing the woman had not asked her to sit down.

"Can I sit?"

"Igrayne, you're acting a bit strange. Of course you can sit. Make yourself at home. I'm just packing in case we need to leave right away. You should do the same."

Igrayne nodded, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. As she opened her mouth to speak, Rani said, unprompted, "Besides, I know what this is about."

"You do?"

"Yes. You don't need to explain it to me, Igrayne."

"But…" Igrayne's mind swam with thoughts. Mical must have somehow told the woman earlier. Well, there went her need for secrecy… "I just…I'm so glad you're this understanding. I guess I just thought you'd be a little more shocked."

"I am shocked, but I promised myself I wouldn't judge you. We've all done things we aren't proud of."

The remark puzzled Igrayne, but she chose to ignore it. "You haven't told Bao, have you?"

"It isn't my place," Rani replied. "That is something you will have to do for yourself."

Igrayne hung her head as the import of her words sunk in. Rani was right. Sooner or later, she would have to break the news to the Zabrak. She just feared the consequences the information might have upon him and his decision to influence her toward one course of action or another. One thing she was certain he would approve of was the religiousness of her appointment-keeping with Mical. She had been unexpectedly thrust into a role she never thought she would have, and she had dealt with it accordingly. But she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to continue on in this manner. She and Bao-Dur had all but dissolved their Force bond, and the child resulting from their liaison would only have a difficult life ahead.

"You are right. I will speak to him about the child as soon as things calm down and are less hectic."

"Child?" Rani's jaw dropped. "Igrayne…I…I was talking about you and Dustil. Is there… Are you telling me…"

Igrayne silently cursed herself for revealing the information prematurely. If all Rani could do was stare at her in terror, then perhaps she was wrong in assuming the woman would be one to understand her dilemma.

"Yes, Rani. I am pregnant. I came here to ask your advice."

Rani made a seat for herself on her cot and tucked both legs beneath her, still digesting the news. "Well, whose is it?"

"What?"

"I mean…you don't have to tell me if you don't want to…"

"Rani, trust me when I say that I have never been intimate with Dustil. That is absolutely out of the question."

"But it wasn't out of the question when you practically sucked his face off on the ship," the woman said in an accusatory voice.

Igrayne was on the verge of crying. "I can explain that. It was…an impulse. A stupid one really. I wasn't thinking." She got up and began pacing. "It's just…I've been trying so hard all this time to keep it together, and Bao-Dur keeps drifting further and further away from me every day. He's just so cold. He's shut himself completely off from me. And I can't understand if it's something I've done, or…"

"Well, maybe he saw you two."

"No. That's impossible. That's—"

"Well, you weren't exactly _discreet_," Rani corrected her.

"Whatever it is, it began long before Dustil came along," Igrayne said. "It's like…I could feel him pulling away from me, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. I just…let it happen."

The thought of their broken Force bond made Igrayne more hormonal than usual. A knot formed in her throat as she felt the tears rise to choke her. She held her arms around Rani and embraced the other woman, looking for some form of comfort, for something that had been missing from her life lately. The other woman smoothed her hair down sympathetically.

"Please don't tell anyone," Igrayne whispered through sobs, her voice sounding slightly wheezy.

"Of course I won't. But you're going to have to tell them all sooner or later."

"I will. Just not now. Until then, please just keep this to yourself."

"Okay."

Just as Igrayne was drying her eyes, the door buzzed open and in walked Carina. The other woman began packing without ever saying a word. Igrayne wondered if she had stood at the door listening to their private conversation—and then chalked up those musings to her paranoia.

--------------

In the main room, Han and Indy were playing a hand of Sabacc with a stolen deck from the cantina. The two scoundrels were so involved in their game that they didn't notice Mithic come and plop down beside them. The Force-sensitive pilot used his mind to move an errant card out of Han's hand and through the air to land into Indy's.

"Feeling better, I take it?" Indy queried, noting the soldier's sheepish grin. "You really had us worried there for a while."

"I felt Eklipse through the Force. The feeling was…paralyzing. It was like I couldn't move. I could feel through the Force what he felt. Victory. Pleasure. He was rejoicing the fact that he would soon be here to welcome us himself."

"Well, when he arrives, can you ask him to bring me a brandy?" Han asked, completely nonplused. The two scoundrels continued their game after Han snatched the card out of Indy's grasp.

"You think I'm joking?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Look, pal, I've been from one end of this galaxy to another. The way I see it, the 'Force' can be attributed to one of two things. Insanity or self-righteousness. You must really think you're the Maker's gift to mankind if you're dreaming dreams and seeing visions no one else can."

Mithic's barely controlled anger boiled beneath the surface. "I am speaking the truth. You'll see soon enough."

"I'll deal this time," Han said, starting another hand of cards. An incessant tapping noise sounded on the metallic walls of the abode. The annoying noise continued for about a full minute. What happened next played out as though in slow motion.

The entire front wall of the safehouse exploded, throwing up a layer of dust and debris as the structure collapsed inward. The blast was small but powerful, eliminating a good portion of the front half of the room. Had anyone been standing in the way when it struck, they would have been easily decimated. Thankfully, everyone ducked for cover when the loud sound rung out.

Several curious refugees peered inside, their faces becoming clearer as the smoke from the initial blast cleared. The bomb had created some excitement in the otherwise depressed area, and everybody ran over to see what the commotion was all about.

Mithic pressed his hands to the floor, lifting his body up to peer through the nonexistent wall. The dirty smell of the refugee sector flooded in through the large hole, polluting his nostrils with the malodorous combination of refuse, urine, and feces. His initial shock subsided, and he stood to his feet.

"Somebody wanted to send us a message."

"Well, congratulations to them. They just did," Han said, dusting himself off.

Carth's voice was audible in the distance. "Is everyone okay? Did anyone get hurt?"

"We're all fine up here," Indy replied back. "Why don't you go check the others and see if they're all right?"

"I'm on it!" the distressed admiral responded in haste.


	25. Old Man Terrik's Shipyard

While the bomb was loud and powerful enough to do serious damage to the front of the safe house, the damage was simply superficial. No one had gotten injured in the blast, Carth had quickly found out as he found the girls in the women's quarters, shaken up but very much okay. This was both a relief and a concern. Whoever had planted the bomb had meant it only to scare them, to show them who was in charge, not to wound them. But it had made its point nonetheless.

They weren't safe here anymore.

"We need to get off this planet," Carth explained to everyone who had gathered in what was left of the main room. "Now."

"I agree," Mithic said, his voice betraying his anxiousness. "It's no longer safe to be here and...I sense Eklipse. He's coming."

"All the more reason to bolt, wouldn't you say?" Tren said. "I'm all for ditching this hellhole."

Indy shook her head, crossing her arms. "And just how are we going to leave without a ship? Unless you guys sprouted wings when I wasn't looking."

Carth furrowed his brows. "Well, if we pool all our credits together, we should have enough to buy a new ship."

Indy was already objecting before he could finish his sentence. "No way am I leaving my baby here, defenseless, hurt." She glanced around suspiciously. "Who knows what these scavengers are capable of?! They could rip her limb from limb and—"

"Indy," Rani said in a placating tone. "I know your ship is important to you. But what's more important? Your ship or your life?"

The smuggler paused. "I'll get back to you on that one."

Carina rolled her eyes. "We don't have time for this. We have enough trouble with Cyrus on our case...if Mithic is right and Eklipse is coming, then we have no choice but to leave. It's too risky to stay."

Carth nodded in agreement. "It's also apparent that the safe house isn't very safe anymore. The faster we can get away from this place, the better. I'm going to go see if I can manage to get a hold of a ship, and the rest of you should finish packing."

Bao-Dur, who had remained silent until that point, spoke up. "I will come with you, Admiral. Perhaps I can help you get a good deal on the ship...and it never hurts to do a little extra inspection on a purchase, especially on Nar Shaddaa."

"Thank you, Bao," Carth said, then he turned back to the crew, his eyes briefly noting Rani's concerned expression. "Let's move, people. Time is of the essence."

Carth began to leave, but Rani stopped him as the others shuffled around to finish packing their things. She touched his arm gently and he turned to look at her. She couldn't hide the concern and worry that plagued her features.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Everything," she replied, the word laden with meaning. She gathered herself quickly and shook her head. "Nothing. Just...wanted to tell you I love you and to be careful."

He gave her a half smile. "I'm just buying a ship."

"Nar Shaddaa isn't the safest planet, if you haven't noticed," she replied wryly.

"Oh, I noticed."

She couldn't help but sigh, and Carth wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him, her body lining his perfectly. "Things will work out; don't worry."

"I can't help but worry, Carth," she said. "This entire thing is tearing apart everything we've strived so hard for."

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Even if we get of Nar Shaddaa, where will we go? Cyrus is hunting us, and we're fugitives for the very Republic we fought so hard to protect!" Her voice was filled with frantic vehemence. "It's like we've been disowned by the entire galaxy!"

He frowned. "What brought this up?"

She shrugged evasively and then brought her dark eyes up to challenge his warm liquid brown ones. "You can't deny the affect it's having on all of us. The pressure is...extraordinary."

"We'll get through this regardless, Rani," Carth assured her, rubbing his thumb along the soft curve of her cheek. "I promise."

Again, she sighed. "You're right. It's just..."

"What?"

"I can remember a time when our biggest problem was a few Sith. Now, it's like we've become our own worst enemy." She took an unsteady breath. "It just doesn't sit well with me, is all."

"I understand," he said. "But things are never as bad as they seem."

Rani smiled faintly. "So you say."

"After all," he continued, "I still have you. What more could I want?"

He kissed her and it made her giggle a little despite herself and despite the dark situation they were in.

"You've got a point," she teased.

"Don't I always?" he asked with a boyish grin.

"Get outta here, you egotistical Gamorrean," she laughed, pushing him toward the exit.

He laughed along with her before motioning to Bao that they were to leave.

"C'mon, Bao, let's go get us a ship."

Bao-Dur turned to follow Carth acquiescently, and Igrayne could only watch him go. She was feeling a mixture of different emotions, which gave her a very melancholy expression. Her heart told her to patch things up with Bao, that he would forgive her and they could be happy together, raising their future child. However, the more logical part of her possessed many doubts that prevented her from taking a single step toward the Zabrak and toward a potentially happy future with him.

She couldn't help but wonder if it was her fault that they had drifted apart. Maybe if she'd done more to repair their bond early on, they wouldn't be so distant from one another now. She missed him with every fiber of her being, yet, at the same time, she feared any life she could have with him. Often, he was so cold, so unresponsive. She knew she couldn't blame him for it since he was a Zabrak, and they were practically genetically programmed that way, but still...if she could love him so vehemently, why couldn't he reciprocate the feeling?

Igrayne quickly dropped her gaze as he disappeared around one of the buildings, trying to bring her mind out of the past and back to the present. She found herself, more often than not, thinking about "what ifs" rather than concentrating on reparations to be made in the future. She bit her bottom lip, trying to ignore the aching feeling within her. She'd blown her chance with Bao, and now she was facing the consequences.

While she had tried not to be obvious, the longing look that Igrayne had given Bao-Dur had not been lost on Carina. In fact, unbeknownst to the woman, her friend knew far more than she would've liked. Carina hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but when she'd paused outside the door and heard Igrayne's confession to Rani, what else was she to do but listen? Or, at least, that was how she justified it to herself.

"Hey, Igrayne," Carina began innocently. "How're you doing?"

Igrayne seemed almost startled by Carina's presence because she'd been so lost in thought. "Could be better," she said, forcing a smile to reassure her friend. "Could be worse, though, too."

"Have you finished packing?"

Igrayne shook her head. "Not yet. I got...distracted."

"By Bao?" Carina decided to get to the point.

The ebony-haired woman's eyes widened then narrowed suspiciously. "Why do you think that?"

"I know about..._you know_," she said bluntly, glancing toward Igrayne's stomach.

"Oh." Igrayne looked absolutely crestfallen. Mical must have confided her secret in Carina. It wouldn't surprise her. The doctor had a hard time saying no to the woman. "You do?"

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," Carina continued, and it all clicked into place for Igrayne. She had overheard her conversation with Rani.

"Carina!" Igrayne began, mildly upset that her friend would invade her privacy like that.

The emerald-eyed woman held her hands out in a placating manner. "It was an accident! Honestly, Igrayne, you know me better than that. I wasn't looking to eavesdrop on you...it just sort of happened." She looked at the ground, abashed. "Sorry."

Igrayne sighed, knowing her friend was truly repentant. "It's fine. You would've found out eventually, anyway. I guess now is as good as ever."

"Have you told him yet?"

"No!" she almost screamed, but she lowered her voice at the last possible moment. "No, and you must promise you won't either."

"I promise, Igrayne. You know your secret is safe with me, but..." Carina paused. "Why not? Don't you love him?"

Igrayne smiled sadly. Carina was ignorant about most of the recent goings-on since she'd been out of the loop for so long, and having lost her memory and recently regained it didn't help matters.

"It's not that simple."

"Oh."

"I will tell him," Igrayne continued, trying to assure herself rather than her friend that she would. "Just...not now. Now's not the time, and I'm just not ready yet."

"I understand." Carina nodded. Igrayne wasn't sure if her friend really did understand or not, but she figured this was as good a chance as any to change the topic. However, Carina beat her to the punch. "So, need some help packing?"

The dark-haired woman nodded appreciatively. "Sure."

Carina gave her a reassuring smile and they headed back toward the women's quarters to finish packing. Carth wouldn't be back for a few hours at least, so they still had a good amount of time to finish packing the few things they had brought. Plus, the two women wouldn't deny that they were dying to get out of their dancing clothes. Rani might've felt comfortable in it, but Igrayne knew she didn't...especially when it drew so much attention to her swelling stomach.

-----------------

In the main room, Indy and Han had returned to their game of Sabacc, undaunted by the recent events. Han watched Indy intently as he placed down some of his cards. She seemed awfully quiet—too quiet, in fact—and it was mildly disconcerting. Indy usually spoke her mind and was rarely one to watch what she said, so when she was silent, it was either because she had nothing to say or was too upset to say anything coherent. Han rather doubted it was the former.

"You doing okay?" he asked casually.

"Yep," she replied simply.

"You sure?"

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "Play the game, Han, and cut the chatter."

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back, cards in hand. "Sure thing. Just thought you'd be a little more upset about leaving your ship to be picked at by these refugees."

Indy remained silent.

Han knew that wasn't a good sign. He also knew that if he could just get her talking—or yelling, as he knew would be the case—everything would be back to normal as soon as she got what she was feeling off her chest. Of course, the downside of this strategy was the fact that Han would most likely be the one to take the brunt of her anger and frustration.

_It'll be worth it_, he thought to himself.

"Sure was a nice ship," he continued, whistling. "Definitely a nice ship. Aren't you going to miss it?"

She still remained silent, playing a few cards, while avoiding his gaze.

"I'm actually surprised that you didn't put up more of a fight to keep her."

Han could almost feel the anger rolling off Indy in waves.

"Oh, well, guess it wasn't _that_ nice of ship."

That was the final straw, and Han knew it the moment Indy placed her entire hand of cards on the table with trembling hands. She then grabbed the chips they'd been playing with and threw them at Han's face one by one. He moved just in time, dodging the flying chips, but she picked up the deck of cards and proceeded to throw them at Han too.

"I _loved_ that ship! How dare you, you smug bastard!" she screamed, approaching him with a deadly look in her eyes.

Han raised his hands up in defense, but she just kept coming at him.

"We just can't leave her here! She'll be picked clean!" Han was surprised she wasn't pulling out her hair yet. "She was loyal, and faithful, and served us better than any other ship! And they just want to abandon her! Back-stabbing traitors! All of them!"

Han opened his mouth, but she cut him off with a stern rise of the hand.

"Don't. The _Centurion's Blade_ is my baby! I can't just leave her to the vultures! I won't! I won't, I won't, _I won't_!"

"I don't think there's much that you can do, Indy," Han finally got in. "Last I heard, Caine and Cody had done some serious damage to the ship, and it is now under their command."

"_WHAT?!_"

Han swallowed, suddenly realizing the error of his words. In hindsight, he knew it was a bad idea to tell her. But, then again, his foresight had never been quite up to par.

"My ship, my baby is in the hands of...the hands of—" She was practically swaying on her feet now. Then, she stopped; she didn't move, didn't seem to breathe. "Oh, _hell_ no!"

And she made a move toward where her things were packed, shuffling through them until she found what she had been looking for. Two modified blasters, each deadly accurate. Indy wasn't normally a violent person—at least in her own mind—but desperate times called for desperate measures.

However, before she could storm off toward her ship in what was to be an inevitably suicidal mission, Han had his arms around her, keeping her hands planted firmly at her sides, preventing her from moving, though she tried regardless.

"Let me go!" she yelled. "I need to save the _Blade_!"

"Indy, a ship—any ship—is not worth getting your brains blown out over!" Han tried to reason with her.

"Yes!" she countered. "Yes, it is! A captain goes down with her ship! A captain goes down with her ship!"

She continued to struggle and scream incoherent phrases varying from how she was going to strangle Han with his own vocal cords, to how she was going to blast Caine and Cody to kingdom come for messing with her ship. After a few agonizingly long minutes, she seemed to calm down. Han didn't let her go, though.

She was breathing heavily, but she let her guns drop to the floor. Then she sighed.

"Feeling better?" Han asked.

"I hate you," was her reply.

"I'll take that as a yes." He bent down in one fluid motion and grabbed her blasters. "And I'll take these." Then he sat back down on one of the mats.

Indy sullenly sank to one of the mats as well. "I don't understand it."

"What?"

"Why don't they just change the codes? It's cheaper, and there's millions of ships in the galaxy," Indy explained. "They wouldn't be able to know the _Blade_ is the _Blade_ if we change the codes."

"Carth thought of that, remember?" Han reminded her. "But Cyrus is constantly watching us, and Caine and Cody are already on it. It's too risky."

"I like risks," she mumbled.

Han looked sympathetically at her. "After all this is over, how 'bout I buy you a new ship? Same class as the _Blade_."

She shook her head, frowning. "Wouldn't _be_ the _Blade_, though, would it?"

"How about this," he tried again. "If the _Blade_ is still here by the time we get back here, I'll help you fix her up."

Indy looked at him with hopeful eyes. "Really?"

"Really."

"She'd need a lot of work by the time this is all over...if she's still here at all."

"I know."

She smiled, extending her hand. "It's a deal then."

Han smirked. "It's a deal," he agreed, grasping her hand.

-------------

Atton shifted in his sleep, taking in a sharp breath. As soon as it was confirmed that the bomb was meant as a threat and not to kill them, he'd slinked back to the men's quarters and promptly fallen asleep. It had been a long day, especially for him, and he needed to rest and allow his body time to heal.

Evy sat by his side, watching him with bated breath. Every time he moved or moaned in his sleep, she would feel her breath hitch. Atton could be a pain, but he was _her_ pain. Something had obviously been bothering him—aside from his physical pains—and it bothered Evy greatly that she didn't know what it was.

A strand of sweat-soaked hair fell into his face and she gently pushed it away. Abruptly, his eyelids snapped open and he looked at her with a strange expression, something bordering on confusion, anger, and fear. He grabbed her wrist instinctively before letting her go when he realized who it was.

"Evy," he breathed.

She smiled angelically at him. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

He groaned in reply. "As if I just puked up everything I've ever eaten in my entire life. I ache...everywhere."

She ran her hand across his forehead and down his cheek smoothly. "That poison did quite a number on your body, but Mical's antidote counteracted it quickly. You owe him your life, Atton."

He snorted. "Fantastic."

"You should probably get some more rest."

"Is Carth back?"

"Not yet."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"An hour or so," she supplied.

"Hmm," he grunted evasively.

"Tren and I were really worried, you know," Evy began.

A hard look came onto Atton's face. "Oh? Wow, I'm flattered. Really, I am. Didn't think you two had enough time to devote to worrying about me."

"What are you implying?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm not implying anything, sweets," he replied nonchalantly. "'Cept I have noticed you and Tren getting a little too close for comfort these days."

Her mouth opened in surprise, forming a tiny "o" shape. "Is that what you think? That Tren and I...Atton, you're an idiot."

"Am I?" he growled. "Maybe I am for not seeing this sooner."

"Atton!" she cried. "I am not in love with Tren!"

"Sure, whatever you say."

Evy stood angrily, her blonde hair falling around her shoulders. "I can't believe that you would think I'd just betray you like that. And Tren's your best friend!"

"_Was_," he corrected quickly. "Was my best friend."

"I don't believe you, Atton," she said, tight-lipped. "That poison must've messed with your mind, too."

He turned away from her, literally giving her a cold shoulder.

"Fine," Evy snapped. "Think what you will, but once you snap out of this paranoid delusion you seem to be entertaining, let me know."

Atton said nothing and she huffed and walked out of the room quickly.

Evy couldn't believe the gall Atton had in thinking that she was having some sort of fling with Tren. Of course she cared about him, but she loved Atton. It hurt her deeply that Atton didn't trust her. But if he was going to be a moron and hold to his stupid belief, then she'd let him. For now. She knew she'd eventually have to set him right if he didn't do it on his own.

She found herself heading toward the women's quarters, and it was then that she realized that she needed to pack as well. As soon as she entered the room, she noticed Carina helping Igrayne pack and Rani standing nearby packing her own things. Carina had changed out of her dancing attire and was now wearing a loose white shirt with tan pants, very similar to the under attire of Jedi. Evy figured they were from the time spent in the Jedi Temple with Kavar, and she briefly wondered whether she had the actual robe as well. Igrayne, too, had changed out of her dance outfit into a more modest shirt and pants, both rather dark in color, but they were very slimming and flattered her curves.

"Hey, Evy!" Carina greeted her with a smile.

It was still surprising to Evy how Carina had metamorphosed from a Sith lord back into the woman she'd known so long ago. She could still catch the faint vestiges of hurt and pain that were attributed to her memories—what little she had—in her eyes whenever Carina let her guard down, which wasn't often.

"Hey," she replied, her voice sounding tired.

"You okay?" Carina queried.

"Fine," she said quickly. Then, to Igrayne: "That's a nice color on you."

Igrayne smiled. "Thanks, Evy."

"Are you gals all packed up?" Evy asked.

"I am," Carina said.

Rani shook her head. "I've got a few more things to pack, but it shouldn't take me long at all."

"How about you, Igrayne?"

Igrayne nodded. "Carina helped me out."

"Aren't you the busy bee?" Evy teased lightly.

Carina smirked. "Well, someone has to keep this traveling troupe in order." Then she winked.

"How's Atton doing?" Rani asked, unaware that it was a delicate topic.

Evy sighed. "I don't know what's wrong with him. He's come up with the most unbelievable ideas...and he won't listen to reason."

"So, he's being typical Atton?" Carina grinned at her own quip.

It didn't amuse Evy, and she gave Carina a look, making Carina's grin fade.

"What kind of ideas, Evy?" Igrayne queried, curious.

Evy frowned. "He thinks Tren and I are together."

Rani raised an eyebrow at the mention of her brother. This was certainly news to her. "Are you?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically. "We're just friends!"

"Okay, Evy, okay," Igrayne said, touching her shoulder comfortingly. "Did you tell Atton that?"

"Yes, but he doesn't believe me."

"Why?"

"I have no clue."

Carina plopped herself down on one of the makeshift beds. "Have you given him any reason to believe otherwise?"

"No," Evy said, shaking her head. "None whatsoever."

"Maybe it's just a phase," Rani added. "All guys get jealous at some point."

"Yeah!" Carina agreed.

"I hope you're right," Evy said.

Rani gave her a comforting smile. "Don't worry. It's probably just the stress of everything getting to him. He'll be over this before you know it."

"You're probably right." She shook her head, smiling, embarrassed. "I'm probably worrying over nothing."

A comfortable silence fell on the women in the room as Rani went back to packing, Carina quietly sat on the bed, and Igrayne and Evy became lost in their own thoughts. After a few moments, Carina began to fiddle with her lightsaber, passing it between her hands. Rani continued to pack. Evy sat on the bed next to Carina. Igrayne could feel the uncomfortable tension in the room escalating, so she decided she'd try to start some casual conversation.

"So, Carina," she began. "How are things between you and Mical?"

Carina seemed caught off guard by the question. "Okay, I guess. He doesn't really like talking to me."

"Give it time," Rani advised. "You may not remember him, but he remembers everything about you...and don't take this personally, but you've changed."

"I know," she whispered sadly. "I wish I could remember him, and to an extent, I do. But...it's just not enough. I'm trying; really, I am."

Igrayne smiled knowingly. "We know."

"It's just, he seems to shut me out any time I try to get closer," she explained, looking down at her lightsaber. "I don't know what to do. I've tried talking to him..."

"Maybe you should change your tactics," Rani suggested.

"How so?" Carina was curious.

"Kiss him."

Carina gaped. "What?"

"Kiss him," Rani repeated. "That'd sure get your point across."

"And people call _me_ the crazy one!" Carina said, shaking her head vehemently. "No way."

"Actually, I think Rani has a point," Igrayne piped in. "And who knows? Maybe it'll show that he reciprocates your feelings."

"I don't even know what I feel!" the green-eyed woman exclaimed, her frustration apparent. "It's hard to know if you like someone when you can't even remember them."

"It's worth a try, don't you think?" Igrayne pointed out.

Carina looked conflicted. "I don't know. Evy, what do you think?"

Evy looked like a deer caught in headlights. "I don't know. Do what you think is best."

"That helps," she said sarcastically.

She sighed aloud, placing the lightsaber she'd been fumbling with on the bed beside her packed things. "I think I'm going to go for a walk," she announced, slipping from the bed and moving toward the hallway.

"Don't go too far," Rani advised. "Carth could be back any moment."

"Will do," she agreed with a mock salute.

Fate seemed to be against her, however, for she had taken no more than a few steps into the hallway when she ran into Mical.

-----------

The admiral and the Zabrak gazed at the shipyard before them, although the name "junkyard" suited it better. Ships of different shapes and sizes littered the place, which eerily reminded them of a graveyard. A small snubfighter was missing half of its chassis, and wires hung out like intestines. Beside it stood a ship of similar make to the _Centurion_, but far more run down, if that was even possible. Rust flecked the hull and wires hung down limply, and the area where the cockpit should have been had been gutted. Bao-Dur shuddered merely at the sight of the decaying ships; to see one in such disrepair was disconcerting.

The ships seemed to outline a path going up to a cargo container with windows cut out of the durasteel and transparisteel windows clumsily welded on. The door was a durasteel plate on hinges; just looking at it told one it would creak horribly when moved. Their assumption was correct when the hinges screamed as the makeshift door was swung open. An old man with a cane limped out of the durasteel hut and squinted in their direction. One of his legs was simply a metal rod, shorter than his flesh and bone leg, no doubt the cause of the limp. He was missing an ear and one of his eyes seemed to spin around crazily inside his skull—an unpleasant sight for anyone.

"Costumers? Are you costumers? Haven't had much of those lately," he cackled, showing off his toothless gums. "Old Man Terrik has a nice selection; cheap prices too!"

"Do any of these ships even work?" Carth queried incredulously.

Old man Terrik gave a raspy laugh as if Carth had just told a joke. "Some, some," he said. "Choose wisely!" He laughed again. "Old Man Terrik will come find you when you have chosen." At that, the man returned to his hut. The question of _how_ he'd know when they'd chosen was left unsaid, as Carth and Bao-Dur exchanged glances and moved further into the graveyard of ships.

"None of them look like they can fly anytime soon," Bao commented, eyeing a freighter missing one of its engines and a big chunk out of its belly.

"We'll find something, surely," Carth tried to say with conviction, but it died when he spotted a large freighter with its cockpit smashed in and what looked like bones in the pilot's seat.

They came across several different ships that appeared to be in working condition, but on everyone they checked out, Bao said they were no good. On one of them in particular, Carth had shaken his head violently and said, "We'll be a bull's-eye in that."

Bao suspected the admiral simply didn't like how the plate-like ship looked. Bao had to say he agreed; it was rather ugly.

After more searching, they came across something that surprised them endlessly. The ships had been cleared out of a circular area, and in the middle sat a ship that looked suspiciously like the _Centurion's Blade_ herself. Her usual silhouette was ruined by a charred hole marring her hull; it looked like someone had strapped explosions to her and it had blown off most of her starboard side. Wires hung from her wounds, giving her a decayed look, even if she'd been in working condition only a few weeks ago. They could see the innards clearly, the starboard sleeping area, with charred beds and items scattered, and one of the cargo holds ripped apart. The engines seemed to have been saved, but by the looks of it, without several weeks' worth of work, the _Centurion's Blade_ wouldn't fly, and if left like this for longer, it never would again.

The sight saddened them both. The _Blade_ was a familiar travelling companion, and she'd stuck together when it mattered.

"Our last adventure seems so far away now, doesn't it?" Bao said sullenly, talking about their first journey on the ship. Carth nodded, glancing sideways at Bao.

"I can't decide if the time now is better or worse than that journey. It seemed better in the way that not everyone wanted us dead, and the enemies looked you in the face before killing you," Carth mused. "Now we just get bombs thrown at us."

Glancing at the _Blade_ one last time, a silent assent seemed to pass between them. They wouldn't tell Indy any of this until they were safe. Indy needed to put the ship behind her; she could return when it all was over.

She'd kill them if she ever found out, though.

Turning away from the _Centurion's Blade_, they wandered back through the labyrinth of dead ships. Their search had been unsuccessful, and it seemed like they'd have to pay to catch a transport off planet instead of buying a ship.

Then they heard yelling ahead, two young voices and an old one.

"Give us your credits, you old fossil!" one said, waving a rusty vibroblade toward Old Man Terrik, who was waving his cane madly.

"Go on, get! Or I'll sic my security hounds on you! Imported from Corellia, very vicious!"

"All tales, old man; we know you don't have any security to speak of!" said the other boy, this one brandishing a blaster that looked like it'd seen better times.

"Oh really?!" Carth yelled, jumping to the old man's defense, as did Bao, holding his lightsaber handle ready but refraining from activating it. Carth snapped off a quick shot at the youngsters' legs. They let out yelps of surprise.

"You're crazy!" the one with the blaster proclaimed. He aimed and shot at the old man, but instead of a red bolt shooting out, the weapon glowed and the boy let go with a yelp.

"You should take better care of your stuff if you want to rob someone with it!" Old Man Terrik bellowed at their now retreating forms.

Bao-Dur and Carth put away their weapons as Terrik turned toward them. "Thank you, strangers. The young'uns mean no harm by this, but so far, my lessons haven't reached the brain through those thick skulls of theirs."

Carth shook his head. "No need to thank us."

"Yes, yes! I need to thank you!" the old man suddenly yelped, as if he'd been hit by a revelation through lightning. "I simply _must_. Follow me."

The old man waved at them to follow him, and they did so, exchanging looks of confusion. Once again they walked through the ship cemetery, but this time they took a small path that branched off the road Carth and Bao had previously wandered. After walking through a canyon of dead ships that seemed to threaten to engulf them, they finally came to a clear area. Two large boxy buildings stood before them, both large enough to hold a big ship. Both were open, but only one had an inhabitant.

The ship inside the garage-like structure would have looked elegant had it not been for the rust that covered its durasteel surface and what looked like a rather messy patch job, but despite a few shortcomings, it looked in fine condition compared to all the other ships.

"I'll give you kind strangers a discount on this. It's in working condition, but its engines are faulty and the hyperspace engine might fail when used with short pauses; it needs to cool down properly. Tried to install a system that would help with that, but the ship's systems rejected that," the old man informed them, leading them closer.

Carth looked at Bao, and Bao gave him a nod. The ship was acceptable. "How much do you want?"

"Everything you have—that will include fuel, any spare parts you need, tools for an inspection by your mechanic friend." The old man nodded at Bao. "The droid that works as a navigation computer—the old one was shot—and a complimentary 'Old Man Terrik's Shipyard' t-shirt." The last part of his speech was obviously sarcasm, and Carth cracked a small smile.

"You have a deal, Terrik," Carth decided, feeling content that the deal was better than anything they would ever find on the Smuggler's Moon. He handed over the credits he'd brought for the purchase, but when the old man turned to leave, he called out again.

"About that ship in the middle of the shipyard," Carth began, and Terrik looked at him oddly.

"That hunk of junk? It's so badly damaged you'd think someone hated the captain really badly. I pulled it in not that long ago."

Carth shrugged as if that was new information to him. "I was wondering, it's not really worth anything, would it be possible for you to maybe hold it for safekeeping?" He tried to be casual. He knew how much Indy loved the ship; he wanted to at least try to save it.

Terrik frowned. "Now why would you want me to do that?" The man gazed at Carth, and Carth got this odd feeling, but he shook it off. The mood changed suddenly, and Terrik shook his head, but there seemed to be a glint in his eye.

"No deal unless you pay. I'll sell it when someone wants it." At those final words, the old man wandered off, leaving Carth with a feeling of disappointment on Indy's behalf.

"You go tell the others, Admiral. I'll look the ship over," Bao said in his emotionless tone. Carth nodded and then headed in the same direction as Terrik.

--------------------------------

"Um, hello, Mical," she said awkwardly, caught off guard by bumping into him so soon after the conversation with the girls.

"Hello Carina," he answered, sounding unemotional, giving her no opening into what he was thinking at the moment.

They stood in an awkward silence for a few moments before she built up the nerve to say something.

"I feel like you're avoiding me." Her voice, as she said this, was small and unsure; this was unfamiliar ground for her.

Something seemed to crack in Mical's expression, and he loosened up. "I'm truly sorry if it appears that way," he murmured. "Sometimes a life like this can disconnect you with those you spend your days with. I've been so busy focusing on the wounds in our little group."

"Yeah, I can understand that," she said with a slow nod. "It's an odd situation," she waved her hand around, indicating their surroundings, "all this. A bit overwhelming."

He gave her a slow nod as she spoke, conveying his understanding of her feelings. "But I really do have to talk to Igrayne right now."

"Oh, well, can't we speak some other time then, when everything is a bit calmer?" she suggested hopefully, gazing up at him. He smiled softly down at her.

"It would be my pleasure."

She smiled back before a sudden impulse came over her. She reached up with her hands and cupped his warm cheeks. Pulling him down to her, she placed a soft and fleeting kiss on his lips, reveling in the brief sensation it caused.

When she withdrew, Mical looked dumbstruck, and she blushed furiously. Choosing this as her time to escape, she quickly squeezed past him before running off at a fast pace.

The feeling had been so special but familiar at the same time. It was wonderful, and now she had to admit she wanted more. Sending a guilty look down the hall from which she had just escaped, she gave a small giggle. An exhilarating giddiness came over her, and she gave a small smile. Life felt just a little better.

------------------

After she had finished packing her meager belongings in a suitcase, Igrayne checked her wrist chrono. She was due to meet Mical in the 'fresher—thankfully left intact after the explosion—for a regular checkup. Although a general feeling of excitement reigned among the crew members, Igrayne didn't share it. She had spent a few moments of her time calling upon the Force to calm her upset nerves, which were frazzled after their close brush with death.

Excusing herself from the women's quarters, Igrayne made the short trek to the 'fresher in record time. Feeling a wave of nausea creep upon her, she leaned over the toilet to release the contents of her stomach into the bowl. She took a few breaths and proceeded to clean up. Her initial bouts with sickness had been infrequent, but the longer time dragged on, the more ill she felt. She just hoped it had escaped the notice of the rest of the crew—namely Bao-Dur. Luckily for her, he had been so preoccupied with the whole ship situation that he had barely paid any attention to her. The same could not be said for Dustil, who made repeated trips to visit her after hours and seemed to go out of his way to perform random acts of kindness. If he was trying to soften his image, it was working.

Igrayne looked into the mirror and proceeded to wash her face. She didn't want to look like a mess when Mical finally showed up. The doctor was diligent in his appointment-keeping, but he was oddly absent today, which was unusual for him. She wondered if he and Carina were finally settling their problems.  
_  
He sure picked a great time_, she thought irritably, feeling as though she would be sick again.

If Mical was with Carina, then that was great. Great…and horrible at the same time. She wished her situation was that easy.

Bao-Dur had grown so distant to her that he was like a shadow of his former self. She had done nothing to stop the rift from widening. She was definitely partly to blame for it. And now their child would be born into the middle of a mess she couldn't fix. She wasn't prepared to deal with the situation, nor was she prepared to handle being the full-time caregiver for another human being. At twenty-three, she hardly had enough gumption to care for herself. This was evident in her appearance, shamelessly neglected, that she beheld in the 'fresher mirror. Her eyes were hollow and ringed around with dark circles, her skin pale and sallow. She could hardly believe this was her.

As her hand strayed to her swelling belly, thoughts of the Jedi Council entered her mind unbidden. It constantly hung over her head, even when she was sleeping. She knew the time was coming, very soon, when she would have to make a decision. If she returned to the Order in such a condition, they would surely expel her, and she couldn't risk the shame and humiliation such a thing would cause. Overriding even this was her extreme loyalty to the Order, which she had viewed as a second family from the moment she was accepted for training. She couldn't bear doing something to jeopardize her chances within the Order, and her rapidly growing belly was at present threatening to betray her.

Her maternal instincts—which had not surfaced of their own accord, but rather through force—told her to guard the child with her life. But even she wavered in the face of this responsibility. She no longer cared what she ate, when she ate, or if she ate at all. Her meals were few and far in between, and the helpings on her plate grew more sparse as time went on. She knew all this would change now that Rani and Carina knew of her condition, but she refused to let them keep her from punishing herself. She liked the feeling of absolute control it gave her. She found that the more time wore on, the less control she had. She was becoming merely a victim of circumstance, and she wasn't about to sit by meekly and let it happen.

That was when her thoughts wandered to the only alternative for her situation, and she shuddered. She wasn't prepared to take that path…but the alternative didn't seem much better. What good would it be to bring a child into the world she knew she didn't love? Bao-Dur only angered her with his perpetual indifference, and the urge to hurt him, wound him, had first entered her mind a few days ago while meditating this thought. Being with Dustil had not been enough. Even then the Zabrak had resumed being calm and complacent, as if the thought of them together had no effect on him, when she knew it really did.

At this point, her commitment to the Jedi Order was far stronger than the commitment she once felt to their now dead Force bond. The Tai Shan ceremony was but a distant memory; it no longer held any meaning for her. She didn't consider herself to be bound in any way by Zabrak customs, so it was no big loss. Her only real family was the Jedi and Master Vrook, who had tutored her to become many things of which she was proud. Being with Bao-Dur had only caused her grief and heartache in the long run. She owed nothing to him, least of all this thankless burden she was now saddled with. She stared at her slight bulge in the mirror, growing angrier. It was rounder now, more pronounced, but still subtle enough that she could get away with wearing loose clothes and looking semi-normal. The outfit she had on now, however, showcased much more of her figure, and she wondered if this was wise. Talk was probably already circulating among her companions, but she didn't care. It was her problem to deal with.

She resolved to hold off on contacting Vrook—who had sent her an urgent transmission a day before—until she had come up with a solution to her predicament. She wasn't willing to spoil her chances with the Jedi Order, and she knew the old Jedi master was wise at detecting emotions—such as guilt—through her voice. She would be forced to reveal this information, and then her life as she knew it would be over.

_No. I can't let this happen. I've given too much to them to simply be expelled. I will deal with this the best I know how._

As though in response to that thought, the door buzzed open and in walked Mical, carrying with him a clipboard in the crook of his arm. Igrayne stood up, wondering how her disheveled appearance must look to one so tidy and regimented as the doctor.

"I was just …" She waved a hand, but no words came out of her mouth.

"It is quite all right. Were you ill again?"

"Violently."

"It's quite normal. Maybe something you ate disagreed with you."

"Mical, _everything's_ disagreeing with me! I can't keep food down for the life of me. And I'm feeling weak and faint very often. I think all this trekking around has really done a number on my internal clock."

Mical smiled and jotted down a few notes, then signaled to the sink for Igrayne to take a seat. She did accordingly, hooking her feet over one another at the ankle. She was trying to get comfortable, but there was really no way to do so on the synthetic surface.

"Have you experienced any symptoms that are out of the ordinary lately?"

"No, just the sickness. And it's become so common that I don't think twice about it."

"Well, I would recommend you stick to basic foods—nothing incredibly binding—and drink plenty of fluids to keep yourself hydrated. That will ensure you have a healthy pregnancy."

"Okay, basic foods. So like rice and bread and stuff?"

"Exactly. Nothing that would otherwise make you feel nauseated."

"I don't know, the bread Geriel has is pretty sickening to look at… I think he's had it for years. It's starting to grow mold."

Mical cracked a smile. Igrayne could definitely detect little abnormalities in the way he was behaving as of late—and she briefly wondered if she could attribute this change to her friend, Carina.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't suggest eating that. Come here, let me take your temperature."

Igrayne suffered the brief check-up, having done so many times before.

"98.6. You're normal. Better than normal, actually. At least you're not running a fever."

"I don't feel a bit warm to you?" She felt her own head, desperate to find scorching heat emanating there. But her search returned only cool, clammy skin underneath her palm.

"No, Igrayne. I think it's all in your mind. You're quite well."

After completing a few more tests, Mical made some notations on his clipboard and put it inside his jacket.

"So am I good to go?" Igrayne queried.

"Yes."

"Great."

As she tore past him, there was a hesitance in her step. She paused, turning back to face the incredulous man, and said, "Mical, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Are there like some…vitamins you could give me or something? I don't feel well."

"If it's for the nausea, then yes, I have some remedial cures and vitamins that will help lessen it slightly."

"Great. Are they on the ship?"

"No, I have them in my luggage. I don't want to unpack right now, though, so I will give them to you when we get back onto the ship."

"Okay." She hesitated a moment, took a step forward, and turned back around. "Just be careful and don't go mixing your medicine with any of the bad stuff. There…uh…there are such things, right? Am I correct in assuming so?"

Mical raised a fair eyebrow and gazed at her in the dim light, his mouth set in a hard line.

"Yes, there are. Substances—abortifacients—and toxins that will induce miscarriage. But you have no need of those. Do not worry, Igrayne; I will give you the proper prescription. Have you ever known me to be careless in my work?"

"Careless is hardly the word I would use to describe you!" Igrayne replied overly enthusiastically.

"Well then you know I will take care of you. Now go. We don't want to arouse suspicion, and I have a feeling some of our companions are taking note of our clandestine meetings."

"I told Rani," she whispered. "And Carina knows… She was listening at the door!"

Mical looked away.

"That does complicate things quite a bit."

"Whatever you do, don't tell Bao. I will tell him myself when the time is right."

"You have my word I won't," Mical replied, gingerly touching her on the forearm.

Igrayne exited the 'fresher, glancing back at the door with a mounting sense of frustration. She knew what she had to do, but that didn't make it any easier. But the Jedi Order demanded her full and absolute commitment, and she had promised herself, body, mind, and soul, to them when she undertook the knighting ceremony. It seemed like so long ago now…

"Those were simpler days," she said to no one in particular, making her way back to the women's quarters.

----------------

Evy sat quietly, occupying a small space a good distance away from the safe house. After her argument with Atton and after she had packed, she had once again tried to speak with the dark-haired scoundrel. Instead of an apology, she received more suspicion and bitterness. Never had she known Atton to be so untrusting, but his history of betrayal should have given her a hint as to the possibilities. Regardless, her attempt to patch up their relationship had been weak at best. For some reason, her heart hadn't been completely behind her words, making them sound forced and faulty.

Looking for a respite from her troubles, Evy had departed from the safe house until she had found this secluded spot. Nar Shaddaa was a planet full of vivacious life, and so Evy was surprised when she'd found a spot where the Force was somewhat quiet, almost silenced. The thrumming pulses of the planet seemed a little less pronounced here, and the noise lessened by the large buildings to either side of the man-made veranda. When she had stumbled upon the spot, it had seemed like a gift. She had needed a little peace and quiet, as opposed to the noisy atmosphere she and her fellows often created.

Situated in between two massive skyscrapers, Evy sat contemplating what events had led them all to this point. Thinking back, she realized they had all been on a spiral downwards. It was as if they were trapped in a widening gyre, growing farther and farther apart as they whirled to their destiny. She wondered if, in the end, any of their relationships would last. There was a time, not long ago, when she had believed that love was the strongest thing in the galaxy. Now, she was not so sure.

It pained her to believe it, but when she looked at it from a detached point of view, she realized it was those same relationships, so full of passionate intensity, that had led them down this long, dark road. It was a perilous road to be sure, and yet...Evy did not regret anything she had done to reach where she was today. There were times she did not look back on fondly, but she realized they had helped shape her into the woman she was today.

_And who am I today?_ she wondered briefly. _A Force-sensitive nurse who's been labeled a traitor to the Republic and is in love with a man who doesn't trust her._

She sighed aloud, the soft sound traveling a few feet before being stopped by the towering skyscrapers. There was a moment of silence, where even Evy's thoughts had been brought to a standstill. It was interrupted as a speeder zoomed by, leaving dirty trails of exhaust behind it. Her eyes followed the speeder until it disappeared from sight, the roaring of its engines fading into the consuming silence. In this place, the Force seemed suffocated, and Evy couldn't decide whether she liked that or hated it.

"Evy?" a quiet voice queried from behind her.

She was standing immediately, her hand brushing past the small vibroblade that she'd brought with her just in case. Normally, she would have had her lightsaber with her, but lately she hadn't felt as though she was worthy enough to wield it, to be termed a Jedi, a defender of the innocent. How many innocent had died in their quest for redemption?

When her eyes took in Carina's form, she immediately relaxed and returned to her former position, sitting on the edge of the veranda, her legs dangling dangerously off the edge.

"Hey, Carina," Evy replied, her voice sounding weak and tired to her own ears.

"What're you doing out here?" her friend asked.

"I could ask you the same question," she said with a wry smile.

Carina looked down, almost embarrassed. "I needed some air. It was getting a little...cramped back at the safe house."

Evy nodded in understanding.

The dark-haired woman kneeled near Evy, staring out across the vast Refugee Sector of Nar Shaddaa. "It's quiet here."

"Yes."

Carina's mouth quirked into a frown. "A little too quiet for my taste." She swung her legs over the side, imitating Evy's posture. "The Force seems...distant here. It's like hearing a whisper across a large distance of space."

Evy looked at her curiously. "I see you haven't lost your touch."

She grinned. "The Force isn't something easily forgotten."

Both women sobered immediately, silence falling around them as they sat there.

"Hey, Evy, can I ask you something?" Carina began.

"Sure."

"Before, when I was..." her voice trailed off as she struggled for the right words, "when I wasn't a Jedi, what did I do?"

This obviously wasn't a question Evy felt she was qualified to answer, for her surprise shone on her expressive face. "Does it matter?" was her reply. "You aren't that person anymore."

"Yeah, but I still need to know."

"Why?"

Carina furrowed her eyebrows, seemingly boring a hole into the ground with her intense gaze. "It's just...important."

"Does this have to do with Mical?"

Carina laughed mirthlessly. "Am I that obvious?" Evy gave her a small smile. She sighed. "Yeah, it's about Mical. I just...I guess I want to know why he's afraid to give me a second chance."

"Oh," Evy said pathetically.

"I mean, I can understand his wariness...but still! Everyone else gave me a second chance; you guys seemed to accept me for who I am now...not who I was. Why can't he do that?" Evy could hear the frustration in her voice and see the anger simmering just beneath her emerald eyes.

"I wouldn't be too hard on him, Carina," she told her. "He's been through a lot."

"So have I!" she countered. "You think I don't understand how he feels?"

"It's a little different—"

Carina shook her head vehemently. "It's no different."

_So much for my quiet evening,_ Evy thought bemusedly. However, she was somewhat grateful to Carina for taking her mind off her own problems. Already, she was feeling a little better, a little more like herself.

"You have to realize, Carina, that Mical thought you were dead for a long time," Evy explained. "His last memories of you were...well, they weren't the best, if you get my meaning."

Her expression said she didn't.

Evy sighed and then elaborated in the simplest terms she could, knowing Carina would appreciate her straightforwardness. "You broke his heart."

"Oh." She looked absolutely crestfallen. "Well...I guess that would explain it."

"I'm sure this is just a phase," Evy offered. "Mical will bounce back. He always has."

"I don't know..." Carina was unconvinced. She was quiet for a moment. "What else happened...like before my fall?"

Evy looked away from her friend. "I don't know if I'm the one you should ask about this."

"Why not?" Carina pressed.

"I don't feel entirely comfortable discussing it with you, to be honest." Evy spoke with an honesty that Carina felt refreshing. Most people were more content to lie to her or make up excuses...but not Evy. Never Evy. And for that she was thankful.

"Okay," Carina conceded. She gave her a lopsided grin to reassure her that she was all right with not talking about it.

Another speeder zoomed by, interrupting the deafening silence once again. But as quickly as it came, it disappeared once more.

"So, what's the deal between you and Atton?"

"Excuse me?"

Carina cleared her throat in an attempt to ward off the awkwardness. "I just mean you guys seem to be at each other's throats a lot lately."

"I don't really want to talk about it..." Evy replied evasively.

"I know it has to do with Tren, but that's the extent of my knowledge," Carina continued, undaunted.

Evy stood then, trying to end the conversation. "I _really_ don't want to talk about this, Carina. I think we should head back. The crew might start to get worried."

The blonde nurse turned to leave, but she was brought back to her problems by Carina. "Don't you think you'll feel better if you talk about it?"

Evy answered her with a curt "no."

She walked off, but Carina quickly caught up to her, matching her stride perfectly. "C'mon, Eves, you can talk to me...you know that."

She raised a questioning eyebrow at her. "Since when did you start calling me 'Eves'?"

Carina smiled. "Since just now. And don't try to change the subject!"

The nurse sighed, aggravated. "I appreciate the concern, Carina, really, I do. But now isn't the best time—"

"Now might be the only time," Carina pointed out.

Evy frowned. Her friend was right. Time was limited these days. "He thinks Tren and I are...together."

"I know that part," Carina interrupted quickly, motioning with her hands. "But I don't know why he would think that. Maybe you can explain that to me."

"I'm as clueless as you are."

Carina gave her a skeptical look but nodded anyway. "Okay, then. Did you tell him that he was being a complete idiot and ask him who replaced his brains with bantha poodoo?"

Evy cracked a smile at that. "Not in those exact words, but yes."

"And?"

"And he's still holding to his stupid beliefs."

Carina thought for a moment. "I think I have an idea."

"Oh?"

Carina's emerald eyes glimmered with mischief. "Maybe he needs some sense knocked into him."

Evy didn't like her train of thought. "Are we talking figuratively...or literally?"

"Literally."

"Carina!" Evy exclaimed.

She held her hands out in a placating manner. "Wait, look, Evy. Maybe Atton's just having a phase like Mical. I can't really knock any sense into Mical...but nothing is stopping me from having a little fun with Atton. It solves both our problems! Or, rather, your problem...and relieves a little stress in my life."

Evy was already shaking her head before Carina finished. "No, no, a thousand times no. Atton will come around eventually; I'm sure of it."

"We don't have time for eventually, Evy," Carina persisted.

"No offense," Evy began, "but don't you think it's a little risky even tapping into those angry emotions? For you, I mean."

Carina puckered her mouth as if she'd tasted something sour. "Evy, please give me a little more credit." She sighed. "But maybe you're right."

Evy relaxed. "Then it's settled. You'll leave Atton alone?"

"I won't touch him," Carina promised.

This seemed to appease her friend. "All right, then. Let's head back. Maybe Carth and Bao have made some progress."

Carina nodded and followed Evy back to the safe house, the gears in her head turning the entire time.

------------

Bao-Dur was working on the ship when Carth entered the garage. Old Man Terrik had been kind enough to allow them the use of the garage until they managed to get her into working order. She could fly now, but Bao-Dur and Carth had decided they'd rather not chance it. They had enough trouble of their own without having to worry about their ship falling apart during transit.

"How goes it?" Carth asked amicably as he poked his head underneath the ship.

Bao, who was currently working in what didn't look like a very comfortable position, gave him a polite reply. "As well as can be expected."

Carth nodded. "Anything I can do to help?"

Bao thought for a moment. "I believe I can handle things here. But thank you."

"All right," Carth agreed. "If you're sure."

"Positive."

The former admiral turned to leave but paused mid-step. "I know it's none of my business..." he began. "But is everything...all right...with you and Igrayne?"

The sound of a dropping hydrospanner echoed in the garage before the methodical mechanical clinking and clunking could be heard once more.

"Excuse me, Admiral?"

Carth cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head. Even though he couldn't see Bao-Dur, he could almost feel the Zabrak tech looking directly at him.

"It's just...I'm a little worried about my son."

"Your son?"

"Yes," Carth confessed. "Dustil and I...well, we haven't been on the best of terms, and I'm worried that he's trying to get back at me and Rani somehow."

Bao-Dur slid out from beneath the ship.

"I fail to see how this applies to Igrayne and me, sir."

Carth sighed heavily. "Honestly, I thought he might be using Igrayne as a means of revenge."

The Zabrak's face betrayed no surprise, if indeed he felt any.

"I'm sorry, now probably isn't the best time to talk about something like this—" Carth quickly backtracked.

"Admiral," Bao-Dur called to him before he left, "what exactly led you to this...theory?"

-----------------------

"I think it's time you and I have a little chat."

At the sound of her voice, Atton casually looked up from his lazy position on his sleeping roll. "I'm gonna pass—" Suddenly, Atton's collar felt a little tight, and he tugged at it uncomfortably.

Carina smiled innocently. "I made a promise to my friend not to touch you, so please reconsider."

Atton sneered at her. "Evy put you up to this, didn't she?"

Leaning against a wall, Carina shrugged. "It doesn't matter if she did or didn't, I'm here...and we're going to talk."

"I don't have to talk to you."

"I think you'll find that it's not up to you."

The dark-haired man glared at the woman who seemed to be affecting a very nonchalant posture. She kept her head inclined ever so slightly, long strands of her brunette hair falling over her face, casting a dark shadow over her features. A shiver ran up and down Atton's spine, remembering that this woman was once a mighty Sith lord, but he quickly hid his nervousness.

"Fine," he spat. "Talk. Hope you don't mind if I ignore you, though."

Again, the woman shrugged. "Either way, you're going to listen to what I have to say."

"Then say it, already!"

Carina raised her head, her emerald eyes shimmering with danger. "If you hurt Evy in _any_ way, I will hurt you. Got it?"

Atton snorted. "Maybe you should look to her own actions before accusing me of wanting to hurt her."

"You deny treating her like bantha poodoo, then, when all she's ever done is love you?"

The scoundrel shifted uncomfortably beneath Carina's penetrating gaze; he could feel her probing his mind for sincerity. "Look, I'm not the one who's cheating on her."

"No, you're the one who's accusing her of cheating on you," Carina retorted smoothly.

He shrugged, crossing his arms defiantly.

She sighed wearily. "Okay, Atton, enough is enough. I'm just trying to help my friend. So would you cut the crap already and spill what's really bothering you?"

"What is this?" Atton asked. "Some kind of interrogation?"

"No." She paused. "But it could be."

"Rani should've left you with Cyrus," Atton mumbled under his breath.

It felt as if something pushed him back a little, for he felt himself meet the wall abruptly. His eyes widened and then narrowed as he looked at Carina suspiciously.

"What did you say?" she practically growled.

"I said maybe you should leave me the hell alone!"

"What makes you think Evy is cheating on you with Tren?" Carina demanded.

"I don't have to talk about this with you—"

Atton was suddenly yanked from his sitting position and forced to stand. Carina still stood where she was, her hand extended a little, palm facing Atton. The scoundrel had to admit, he was a little intimidated by Carina. Most of the time, she had a very innocent, almost childlike goodness to her...which often made him forget how powerful she was. How _dangerous_ she was.

"Talk," she ordered. "Now."

"I said I wasn't gonna—"

His shoulders suddenly tensed and he was up against the wall, pressed firmly against it before he was even aware of what had happened.

"You probably don't think I can push you through this wall," Carina said in an emotionless tone, "but believe me, I can. _All_ the way through."

Atton had no doubt she'd make good on her threat either. "I thought you said you promised Evy not to touch me!"

The former Sith lord grinned wickedly. "I haven't laid a hand on you, have I?"

"Damn Jedi," he muttered.

Her smiled faded quickly. "Please, Atton, I wouldn't be here if this wasn't so important."

"Why do you care, anyway?" Atton spat. "Don't you have enough of your own problems with Blondie?"

Unintentionally, Carina clutched her fists together and Atton found he couldn't breathe for a moment. "This isn't about me...it's about Evy." She paused, sighing, letting her grasp on him recoil, and Atton gasped for air. "Help me help you, Atton."

"Fine!" he managed to get out, and he could breathe again. He rubbed his neck. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed how..._close_...she and he have gotten lately. He's been all over her."

Carina raised an eyebrow, thinking. "Isn't that how Tren always is?"

"It's different."

"I think you're paranoid."

"You wanted to know what I thought, so there it is," Atton growled. "Now get away from me."

"Will you at least talk to her?" The woman's tone had shifted considerably. It was softer now, almost vulnerable. "She loves you, you know."

A part of Atton liked it better when Carina was threatening him rather than pouring guilt on him. "I know," he murmured, barely audible.

"Will you talk to her?" she pressed.

"If she wanted to talk to me, she'd be here...instead of _you_," he uttered the last word with mild disgust.

"She tried several times to talk to you!" Carina objected. "You wouldn't listen to reason!"

He looked away. "Whatever."

"You're going to talk to her," Carina finally decided.

"What?"

She turned to leave.

"Wait!" he tried.

When she turned back around, there was that dangerous glint in her eyes again. "No, Atton. I'm sick to death of all the lies...of all the secrets. We've been through hell, and I'm partly to blame for it. The last thing I'm going to do is watch my friends go through the same pain I'm feeling. I can't let that happen. I _won't_ let it happen."

And then she was gone.

Atton knew he was going to have some serious explaining to do when Evy showed up. And he had every bit of faith that Carina would follow through with what she'd said she'd do...and that Evy would arrive any moment.

_Damn women_, Atton thought miserably.


	26. Leaving Nar Shaddaa

Carth paused before exiting the garage to go and locate Old Man Terrik. The Zabrak's question had caught him off-guard, and now he had to take two steps backward.

"Well," he said, using his foot, which was planted in the doorway, to pivot his body the full 180 degrees needed to face the Zabrak. "He hasn't exactly been pleased with me lately. And I know Dustil's never been one to just sit quiet and take it. He's got Onasi blood in him. He's a bit of a hothead." Carth chuckled to himself. "And he's always had a soft spot for brunettes."

Bao-Dur went back to tinkering, perhaps to busy his mind and keep it from creating the different scenarios he so often imagined occurring between Igrayne and Dustil—none of which were particularly appealing. The Zabrak had his eyes focused on his work, making sharp, pointed movements with his hydrospanner.

"My problems with Igrayne are my own," he said, trying to dismiss his curiosity. "They need no analyzing, Admiral."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep my bounds," the admiral said with both palms upraised. "It's just…it's more than that. Dustil's involved now, and I worry about him. He's a good boy; he's just not seeing things clearly right now. I worry he might be using Igrayne for all the wrong reasons."

Something inside Bao-Dur snapped. The usually calm demeanor he exhibited in front of the crew evaporated, displaced by a feeling of anger that saturated the air. He had become unhinged by his anger, which had been on a slow build ever since he had spotted Igrayne and Dustil sharing a very private moment in one of the ship's many corridors. They had, no doubt, suspected they were alone, but their suspicions proved false when the Zabrak had stumbled upon them. Afterward, when he had confronted her, she could not explain her actions.

Carth had to steady himself and take a step back for a moment, feeling overpowered by the emotion. The Zabrak flung aside the hydrospanner with which he had been tinkering and balled his palms into fists. But there was no one on who to release his anger—no one deserving, at least. The one he wanted to pummel over and over again was back in the safe house, preparing for the journey ahead.

When he next spoke, he chose his words very carefully, giving them the proper amount of venom so there was no mistaking the anger he felt: "Perhaps it is Igrayne you should be worrying about, Admiral. She is the one who is playing right into his hands."

His subdued tone of voice sent a chill down Carth's spine. The admiral watched him stoop to pick up the hydrospanner, using the Force to set it calmly back down in his utility belt alongside an impressive slew of tools. The anger he had displayed moments before was now gone, and in its place was his normal dispassionate demeanor.

"I understand your frustration with the situation, Bao, but that is my son you are talking about. A little respect is in order."

"Forgive me, Admiral," the Zabrak whispered breathily, returning to work.

"I'm going to go speak to Old Man Terrik about the price of that armor plating—we'll need it if we encounter that Cyrus madman again—and them I'm going to comm the others and tell them to meet us here at the rendezvous point."

"I will continue working on the ship. She'll be flyable in no time."

"Good," Carth said, exiting the garage more somberly than before.

--------------

Mical gathered together his medical equipment and exited the 'fresher, running headlong into Carina on the way out. She let out an audible "oomph" and toppled over into his arms, sending medical tools flying every which way. In his present state, the doctor hadn't noticed how tightly he was holding Carina to prevent her from hitting the floor, or how warm her skin was against his…

"Oh, Force! I'm sorry, Mical. I didn't see you there."

"Do try to be a little more careful next time," the doctor said, becoming flustered when he realized how embarrassed their forced proximity was making him. He released her and started retrieving all of his medical tools. Carina started helping.

"Is Igrayne okay?" she muttered in an undertone.

Mical's head snapped toward her impressively fast. "Yes, now that you know. And I must say, spying on a private conversation is not befitting of a Jedi."

"Come on, Mical. You and I both know I'm no Jedi."

"You were once. And you swore to follow the path of the light and uphold virtue."

"And so did you. But you left the Order on your own. No one forced you to go. So why did you?"

"My reasons are my own."

"Right."

Her hand was resting on his leg, quite unintentionally. She snatched it back, acutely aware of the warmth emanating beneath his standard issue medical suit. His skin was so soft and inviting that she couldn't help but be reminded of the intimate times they had shared together before the war.

Mical moved at a trot down the length of the corridor, entering the men's quarters to resume packing up his belongings. Carina followed swiftly behind, shouldering Tren on her way in. The blue-eyed scoundrel winked at her, turning to shout, "Score one for Mical! Someone's getting lucky tonight!"

As soon as the door swished closed, Carina rolled her eyes.

"Tren's like the idiot brother I never had."

"Yes, he does lighten the mood considerably these days," Mical conceded, furiously stuffing various articles of clothing in the spare suitcase on his cot. Carina watched him work.

"I don't understand it. One minute you're avoiding me, the next you're kissing me, and then you're back to avoiding me again. What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment?"

She watched his hand pause as he was folding down a crisp white shirt into his luggage. He resumed his motions moments after, but the pause had not gone unnoticed by Carina.

"You have done nothing."

"Then why are you treating me this way?" She approached him slowly, dragging each step. As she came up behind him, her arms sneaking possessively around his waist, she planted her lips lightly upon his neck. She sensually let her tongue dance across the tender patch of skin there, using her teeth to gently nip and tease him. "Love, let's forget whatever it was that brought us to this point and just enjoy our lives together. Who knows how long that may be? There's a madman on our trail who, at any minute, could bomb us all into submission. Who knows if we'll even live to see another day?"

Mical spun about to face her, catching her pale hand in his own. His hand lingered on her waist, hesitating to pull her closer to him, keeping her at bay. "Carina, that is why we must not act on these feelings, however powerful they may be. What if one or both of us are killed? What then will happen? I cannot lose you again, Carina."

"So instead you push me away, act as if I don't exist?"

"I would rather do that than the alternative."

"Love me?" Carina chortled, but it was not with happiness. "Mical, take a good long look at yourself. You're cynical, you've let yourself go, you're disheveled, and your entire outlook on life has become more jaded."

Mical's face hardened at her words, but he said nothing.

"Where's the idealistic young Jedi I loved on Dantooine? Where's the boy who kissed me when I begged him not to? You can't live your life without love because you're afraid of being burned. I understand that you want to guard your heart, but that's not living."

"I died when I learned what happened at Trayus Core," Mical said. "I don't want to die again."

"So cutting yourself off from all emotions—even from the Force—will ward against that? Force, Mical, look at yourself. Listen to what you're saying!"

Mical gave her no time to continue the debate. The young doctor cradled the back of her head in the palm of his hand, bringing her lips to his almost violently. As he crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue parting her lips to grant him access to her rich, moist mouth, she put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

_Whoa_, Carina thought to herself, pleasantly surprised by this new Mical. He was so unlike the young Padawan she met on Dantooine that sometimes the differences were startling. He had gained more gumption, and he was even spontaneous and impetuous at times. He didn't seem to think his actions through from start to finish, which was evident in the confused look he had after their kiss ended. Carina wondered if it was because of her. Perhaps being calculating and methodical didn't work so well for him the first time around, and he was now seeking to change his pattern of behavior to keep from making the same mistakes twice.

Carina stroked back a couple strands of hair from his face, giving her a clear view of his blue eyes. They were cold and hollow-looking, lacking the usual vivacity she found within them when she was in his arms. That joy had been noticeably lacking ever since their reintroduction on Telos, when she was with Kavar. In his current state, Mical was little more than a hollowed-out shell of his former self. She highly doubted he would be receptive to Jedi training anymore. He had even deflected her questions about his leaving the Jedi Order, to which he had given so much of his time, energy, and commitment. Now, none of it seemed to matter anymore to him.

"You've changed," she breathed.

"You have, as well," he said, mouthing at her neck, his hands tugging at her clothes as though he couldn't get them off fast enough. His motions were quick and practiced, and Carina wondered how much time he had spent frequenting the bars and cantinas, carousing with women after her "death." If his actions were any indication of his experience, then she thought he might have turned to other females to soothe his urges. But something in her mind told her that wasn't the case. That sort of behavior was uncharacteristic of even Mical in his current state.

"I don't know if I like it," she said, but she couldn't follow through on that thought. The next thing they knew, Mical was keying the lock to the room and they were tumbling—limbs flying—straight onto his cot. Carina fumbled with his clothes, which came off with incredible ease.

_Gotta love those medical suits…_

There was nothing quite as exquisite as the feeling of Mical's hands on her bare skin, caressing every inch of her almost worshipfully. It had never been this way with Kavar, whom she had mistakenly thought was Mical at first due to their similarity in looks and demeanor.

Mical continued his assault on her mouth, demanding more of her than she was prepared to give. She tried to match his stamina, but she found she was much too weak to compete with him in that arena. Mical used the strength in his arms to pin her down to the bed, his eyes blazing furiously as he looked down at her. Carina was reveling in his adoring stares, when she noticed that he was not really looking at her. He was looking beyond her, through her, to something she couldn't see. The sensation of his lips traveling down her body chilled her to the bone.

She continued to kiss him as they made love, their bodies moving in concert to a rhythm Mical set. As they pounded away to the sweet ecstasy that was sure to come from their release, Carina's mind was at peace. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? Mical's hands were on her, he was inside her, and there was no possible way they could be closer. Yet he was also the furthest from her at this moment.

She reached her climax fairly quickly, and Mical followed soon afterward, satisfied by her weary body's response. As he collapsed on top of her, his breathing labored, she wrapped her arms around him.

"I love you," she said.

These words made him freeze up, although he wanted to reciprocate with all of his being. She could feel his body become stiff underneath her fingers, and his skin grew clammy. He withdrew from her, pushing himself to the edge of the bed to begin dressing.

"Mical," she said.

He continued dressing without saying a word.

"Mical? What's wrong?"

Instead of being filled with the glow of love, she felt shameful and dirty. What they had just done had not been at all good, aside from the superficial pleasure she had felt. He had looked at her with objectification in his eyes, and she wondered if this was a response to everything that had happened to him. After her death, he had probably disassociated himself from emotional intimacy in order to keep the anguish at bay. She felt disgusted he behaved this way toward even her—he had loved her so fervently, that it seemed difficult to fathom this was even him.  
_  
Once burned, twice shy…_

Mical's comm unit buzzed to inform him of an incoming message. He silently went up to retrieve it. On the other end of the line was Carth Onasi, announcing they had found a ship, and for the crew to meet them at the landing docks in two standard hours. Mical had mustered as much joviality as he could in his voice just for this conversation with the admiral, but when they finished speaking, he cast aside the comm unit and looked at Carina.

"You must get dressed, Carina. We have to meet the others in two hours at the docking bay."

"Yeah, I heard."

She began dressing furiously, not caring whether her clothes were on backwards or forwards. All she cared about was the feeling in the pit of her stomach that seemed to be growing bigger by the minute, eclipsing her desire for safety—which could only be provided by the new ship Carth and Bao-Dur had acquired.

Carina stormed past Mical and entered the women's quarters, where she found Rani, Evy, and Igrayne finishing up their packing.

She couldn't breathe. Her heart was pounding inside of her head, the blood rushing through her veins, and her hands were sweating. But for all intents and purposes, she felt dead. The moment he had turned away from her, as if she was just someone else, just some woman who mattered little...that was the moment she'd died. Not at Trayus Academy, not even when she had been forced to kill her family, but now. It felt as if an icy wave had crashed over her, pulling her deep down into a dark abyss from which there was no escape.

With the door closed behind her, Carina sank against it, it being the only thing keeping her upright. Her legs felt shaky and the Force seemed so far away, too far away to call on for assistance. And why would she rely on it, anyway? It was because of the Force that she was miserable, that the man she loved saw her only as an object of gratification. She had killed him, and in return, he had done the same thing to her. It was a little more than ironic, actually.

As soon as she'd entered the room, she'd garnered the attention of her three friends. Igrayne was resting on her sleeping roll, Rani was brushing out a tangle in her long, messy hair, and Evy was sitting in almost a meditative pose, taking nice, refreshing breaths. It had been quite some time since the crew had been able to catch a breather, to take a moment to focus on the simple things in life. Carina hoped her friends wouldn't detect her ambivalent mood.

Unfortunately for her, Igrayne had sensed the wound in the Force before Carina had even entered the room. She could feel a pulsing ebb in the Force swirling around her friend like a whirlwind. Igrayne found she could barely block out the vehement emotions that poured forth from her friend. Carina was hurting, but Igrayne was not completely sure why. She looked to Rani, but it was obvious her friend couldn't sense such things through the Force like her. Evy, however, noticed it as well, which was obvious when her eyes snapped open as soon as her friend had entered the room.

"Carina?" Igrayne queried.

Her eyes shot to the ebony-haired woman sitting on her bed. She almost looked like a caged animal.

"What?"

"Are you all right?" Evy queried

"Yes," she answered instinctively. "Why?"

Igrayne eyed her worriedly. Rani put her brush down, sensing the palpable tension in the room. "Carina?" she prompted.

"I'm fine!" Carina snapped, throwing her hands up in the air, trying to act nonchalant. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Rani, Igrayne, and Evy all shared a glance.

Carina made her way over to her packed things, searching through them quickly. She grabbed some fresh clothes and began to head back to the door. Igrayne stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder. The touch seemed to startle Carina, for she nearly jumped away from the woman after turning to face her.

Igrayne's face was a mask of worry. "Where are you going?"

"The 'fresher," Carina supplied quickly. At their suspicious looks, she began to get defensive. "What? Is it a crime to want to take a shower?"

"What happened, Carina?" Rani asked.

"Nothing! Nothing happened!"

Her voice cracked on the final syllable and she clamped a hand across her mouth to silence the cry that wanted to escape. Her entire body was desperate to let loose all the anger, frustration, and pain that was bottled up within her. But Carina didn't want to give in. If she gave in once...what was stopping her from doing it more than once? She'd been down this road of dark emotions and it had thoroughly ruined her life. She couldn't do it again.

However, her heart's needs overpowered her mind's logic. She sagged against the door until she slipped to the floor, the fresh clothes she'd been carrying falling out of her hands into a messy pile at her feet. One hand was still covering her mouth firmly, but the other was wrapped around her legs, pulling them against her until she made a solid ball at the foot of the door.

Her friends were at her side almost instantaneously, each concerned for her wellbeing, but Carina wouldn't have any of it. Using the Force, she practically pushed them away. Rani was scooted back gently a few inches by the small Force push, but Igrayne and Evy were able to fight against it.

"Carina," Igrayne began in a soothing voice. "Talk to us."

She shook her head but said nothing, not trusting her voice.

Rani crawled back to her friend's side, and this time Carina allowed it. It was as if wave upon wave of merciless emotions crashed over Carina, and she fought it as long as she could. She felt like a lone cliff on the edge of an ocean, its current pulling at her, eroding her defenses. How long could she fight the overwhelming suffering she was feeling?

Rani tucked a strand of brown hair behind Carina's ear gently. "Carina, you're scaring me. What's happened?"

Carina let the hand that had been covering her mouth fall limply to her side as she took a shaky breath. Her eyes darted all over the place as if she was struggling for the right words and battling with a demon within herself. She opened her mouth to say something but promptly shut it when it was obvious no words would come.

Rani's eyes looked to Igrayne for an answer. "Igrayne?"

Igrayne looked helpless. "I'm as clueless as you." She then looked to Carina. "Did something bad happen?" She was unresponsive. "Is everyone all right?" Carina nodded.

Rani thought for a moment. Then everything clicked. "Did something happen between you and Mical?"

At the mention of his name, Carina felt physically ill. She pushed both women aside and practically ran to the other side of the room, having to keep a hand extended to the wall to keep herself upright. Her body shuddered as the first tear fell down her pallid cheek. More tears soon followed, and Carina sank back to the floor, collapsing in a fit of sobs.

"I hate him," she whispered in a dark voice. "And he hates me, too."

"Oh, Carina!" Rani exclaimed, hugging her friend. "I'm sure that's not true."

"It is," she insisted through her salty tears.

Igrayne touched her shoulder comfortingly, trying to send soothing pulses through the Force, but they were repelled by the emotions that surrounded Carina like an impenetrable cloud of darkness. This surprised the Jedi, for she hadn't felt such powerful tremors exuding from the woman since she'd fallen to the dark side. Evy, too, was surprised by the violence she felt from Carina through the Force.

Evy furrowed her brow, trying to understand what could have happened to upset her friend so. "Did you have a fight?"

Carina laughed coldly, the sound sending a shiver through her friends. "I wish."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't talk about this right now," Carina said, swallowing with difficulty. She looked at her friends with pleading eyes. "Please don't make me talk about it."

Rani looked sympathetically at the shaking woman. "All right, Carina. We won't talk about it if you don't want to."

"But don't you think you'll feel better if you get it off your chest?" Evy added. "I mean, I felt better after we spoke."

Normally, Evy's honesty and bluntness was appreciated and refreshing, but not in this instance. In that single moment, everything seemed to come together, a revelation swamping Carina, and she could no longer deny what had happened.

"All right," she began in a bitter voice. "You want to know what happened? I slept with Mical; that's what happened."

All her friends were unable to hide their surprise.

"Oh, but it gets better," Carina remarked dryly, standing up and walking away from them. With her back to them, she continued. "It meant nothing to him. _I_ mean nothing to him."

"Wait," Evy held up a hand. "What are you talking about, Carina?"

"Sex!" she blurted out. "We had sex! How else can I spell it out for you?"

Evy and Igrayne's senses were assaulted by Carina's aura, which was growing more caliginous by the moment.

"But," Rani said slowly, "don't you want to be with him?"

Carina slammed her fist into the wall, making an indent and splitting the side of her hand. She seemed oblivious to the pain even as it physically manifested in trickles of blood that ran down her hand. She whirled around to face them, fury in her eyes.

"Of course!" she yelled. "I loved him! But now I wish I didn't..."

"I don't understand," Rani whispered, trying to not anger her friend further.

"Don't you _see_?!" Carina growled. "I blew it a long time ago. He's not willing to give me a second chance. I—I'm just another woman to him."

Boldly, Evy approached her friend. "Are we talking about the same Mical?"

"Do you know any others?" she snapped.

Evy frowned. So did Carina.

"I'm sorry," she said with a sigh, and immediately the cloud around her began to dissipate slightly. "I just...I don't understand. I don't understand."

Rani, Igrayne, and Evy were at a loss as to how they could help their friend. They were all angry with Mical for hurting her, yet at the same time they all had difficulty believing Carina was talking about the same Mical. For as long as they'd known him, Mical had been the epitome of all that was still good in the galaxy. If he had turned into this monster, like Carina believed, then what did that say about the future of the galaxy? Was no one safe?

"Have you tried talking to him?" Igrayne suggested. "Maybe this is just some sort of misunderstanding."

Carina's eyes flashed dangerously. "A misunderstanding? I don't think so...I think he clearly made his point."

"I can't believe Mical would do something like that," Rani said, biting her lower lip in thought. "It doesn't add up."

Carina remained broodingly silent.

"I'm sure everything will work out," Igrayne offered weakly.

"How can you say that?" Carina whispered, her voice unable to rise beyond a whisper. "You and Bao-Dur are practically over." She looked accusingly at Evy. "And you. The trust between you and Atton is gone. And what relationship can survive without trust?"

Igrayne turned away while Evy narrowed her eyes at her. Rani frowned, knowing her friend better than anyone, knowing that she was only lashing out because she was angry. Carina could not be held accountable for whatever she said in a bout of fury. But her words did hurt; that much was undeniable.

"Carina," Rani began in a warning voice.

Her friend's darkened green irises turned to her. "Don't," she said in a clipped voice. "Don't even pretend to understand what I'm going through. This entire time, you and Carth have had the perfect relationship. He even wants to marry you! So don't you dare try and pretend you understand!"

In her anger, she picked up her lightsaber by her packed clothes and chucked in across the room, where it met the wall with a resounding _crack_ and then clattered to the floor. "It's not fair!" she screamed.

Everyone was silent; no one breathed, no one blinked, no one dared to move. Carina closed her eyes and turned her back to her friends, leaning her body on the wall to try and calm and steady herself.

After an agonizingly long moment, Rani spoke quietly. "We were just trying to help."

Carina's head snapped around, tears in her wide, frightened eyes. It was amazing how quickly she could change from an irate, borderline Sith lord back to the scared, innocent woman she now was. What people didn't know was that Carina felt trapped by her own past. Every time she tried to move on, something happened and she was once again imprisoned by her own past mistakes.

Suddenly, she ran over to Rani and embraced her as if her life depended on it. Her tears spilled onto Rani's shirt, but she didn't mind as she hugged her hurting friend. Carina just cried and cried, unable to help herself. It was as if the floodgates had been unleashed and the last vestiges were pouring forth onto Rani's shoulder. She could only hold her weeping friend.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I'm so sorry, so sorry..."

Seeing her friend in such agony was a wake-up call to Evy. It wasn't often Carina broke down, revealing her heart in such a vulnerable way. Even the strongest fell down sometimes, she had to remind herself. But what was scary about it was that Carina had been right in her assessment of everyone's situation, including Evy's.

"I..." Evy began. "I think I'm going to go...talk to Atton."

Igrayne nodded and Evy left the room swiftly. Igrayne decided it'd be best to give Carina and Rani the privacy they needed, knowing Carina would more openly confer with the dark-haired woman than with her. Rani and Carina had always had a special bond that had formed with their friendship. Both women would die for the other. Both almost had on different occasions.

The Jedi motioned to Rani that she was going to leave, and Rani nodded. Soon, no one remained in the room except Rani and Carina.

"I didn't mean it," Carina said in a raspy voice as soon as she'd calmed a little. "What I said...I didn't mean it."

Rani gave her a reassuring smile. "I know."

"It just...it feels like there's this hole in my heart and I can't do anything to fill it up," Carina tried to explain, tugging at her shirt near where her heart was as if to illustrate. "I know I made a mistake, but I just want to be the old me! I don't want to be a Jedi, I don't want to be a Sith...I just want to be Carina, that's it."

"I know," Rani repeated, rubbing her friend's back in an effort to soothe her.

Carina turned to face her, her cheeks still stained with tears. "What do I have to do to prove to him that I'm not who I was? What do I have to do? I'll do anything."

"I don't think it's a matter of what you do, Carina. Mical's just...afraid. He lost you once, and then he thought he lost you again to Kavar. He's afraid he's setting himself up for a fall."

"Maybe he is," Carina agreed wearily. "But is that so bad? Isn't it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?"

Rani half smiled. "The age-old question, isn't it?"

Carina plopped herself down on her bed. She felt so confused. How could something so good and pure as her love have turned an innocent man like Mical into such a convoluted bastard? It didn't make any sense to her. She was at a loss, and it was driving her crazy.

"Maybe you need a little sleep," Rani suggested, unsure of what other advice she could offer her friend.

"Maybe you're right."

"You'll feel better," Rani assured her. "We have a few hours before we're supposed to be at the rendezvous point, anyway."

"Okay," Carina whispered, laying down. She was too tired to argue anymore. She just wanted to fall asleep, to disappear into the welcoming darkness. A few moments after that thought, she did just that.

Rani watched her friend drift off to sleep and knew she had to hear the other side of the story before passing judgment. Carina might not be willing to speak with Mical, but nothing was preventing her from doing so.

---------

Geriel was hard at work trying to assess the damage his once cozy abode had taken. The explosion had been small, but concentrated enough to have totally wiped out the main wall. Mithic and Han elected to help him drape a tarp covering over the large fissure in the wall in order to keep the prying eyes of the refugees away from what was happening inside.

"That should do it until my friend arrives with the equipment necessary to make the needed repairs," Geriel said, both hands on his hips as he watched the other two men secure the tarp in place, leaving just enough space to get into and out of the safe house.

"Thanks for your help with that, friend."

"Don't mention it," Han said, returning to Indy, who was sitting on the floor with her knees tucked up to her chin. He knelt before her, extending both hands to her shoulders. He could feel her whole body trembling underneath his fingertips; he had never seen Indy like this before.

"You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, I think so. A little deaf, but I'll manage."

His hand brushed across her cheek before they bent to pick up the fallen Sabacc deck. Their game had been disrupted by the wall exploding and showering down debris, dirt, and ash everywhere. The smoke had filled their lungs, and in their haste to get away from the unpleasant smell, the cards had scattered everywhere.

Their hands met over one of the cards; Indy quickly withdrew hers.

"You go tell those princesses in the women's quarters to get their stuff and get up here. We're about ready to leave."

"Sure thing," Indy said somewhat dejectedly, traipsing down the hall to find the others. Her new task took her mind off Han, which was a good thing.

Halfway down the hall, Indy collided with Rani, who seemed to be on a mission of some sort. The flustered woman tucked a strand of her dark hair over one ear, her face highlighted with worry.

"Rani, is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong."

"Uhm…okay, whatever. Han says for you guys to hurry it up because we're about ready to leave and meet Carth."

The mention of his name brought a smile to Rani's face, but the joy she felt was fleeting. Her thoughts were again consumed by Mical, who had treated her friend Carina callously and unforgivably.

"All right. I'll tell the others."

Indy departed, and Rani watched to make sure she was gone. With a practiced stealth, she crept into the men's quarters. She found Mical there, luggage in hand, about to exit the door. She successfully barricaded him in, planting her feet in the doorway so there was no way to go but through her.

"Rani, what is it?"

She keyed the lock to ensure maximum privacy. This was one conversation she didn't want the others to hear. Rani leaned forward, forcibly taking the luggage out of Mical's hand and putting it down on the ground.

"Please, sit. We need to talk."

The young doctor sat down, albeit tentatively.

"Rani, what is this about? We must leave immediately. You heard Mithic…Eklipse is already on his way here, and time is of the essence. Carth and Bao have the ship in working order."

"That can wait. There's something more pressing I need to speak with you about." Rani had to physically restrain herself from decking Mical right then and there. The way he was looking at her now—with wide, innocent blue eyes—made it difficult for her to believe him capable of what Carina described. She had no choice but to believe her friend.

"Mical, I am worried about Carina. She's hurting, and the last thing she needs right now is to have her feelings abused."

"If you are accusing me of something, I'd prefer you say it outright," Mical said. The shadows played across his face, putting the focus on his intensely cold blue eyes. Rani shivered, involuntarily chilled by the sight of them. This was a side of Mical she had never seen before.

"Mical, Carina is in a very fragile place in her life right now. Anyone or anything could upset the balance, drive her down a path she might later regret like it did before. I didn't come here to point the finger of blame at you, only to warn you that she deserves to be treated like a human being."

She noticed Mical's fists clenched on his knees, the flesh pulled so tight that it was pale and white. She could see the veins pulsing beneath them, the throbbing of his heartbeat escalating with each passing moment. The thought crossed her mind that she was unarmed and without Force abilities to protect her. But Mical wouldn't ever attempt to hurt her in any way—would he?

"You are leveling accusations at me that are without merit."

"Carina told me everything," Rani replied. "She told me what you did, and frankly Mical, you should be ashamed of yourself. I expected better of you."

Mical's eyes widened, registering surprise at her words, but there was also pain in their watery depths. Rani almost felt sorry for him and for the admonition she had carelessly flung at him, but she prevented herself from feeling that way by keeping Carina foremost in her mind.

"You want to know why I prevent myself from feeling anything when I'm with Carina? It is because I love her too much."

Rani snorted, and the young doctor shot her a look that quickly quieted the laughter. It was an almost murderous look that she had seen only once before—and on the face of Atton. Mical was beginning to frighten her.

"I find that hard to believe after what you did to her."

His hands tensed on his knees, then relaxed again, the flesh becoming a more neutral shade. It was with great resolve that he restrained himself from saying the things he wanted to say, the things that were truly in his heart.

"Carina has only ever brought me heartache. I am guarding against it."

"By using her?"

"By not giving her any false delusions," Mical quickly corrected the woman. "I fear she will try and form an attachment to me because it is convenient. That is what she did to Kavar when she was rescued from the ruins of Trayus Academy…" He paused for a long while, releasing a breath that resembled a sigh but was far heavier. The memories pained him to speak of, but they were what had contributed to his current apathetic demeanor and he needed someone to understand the truth. "He was the only one who held the answers she needed, the keys to unlock the secret to her past. And then she joined with Jene Cyrus, our enemy, whom she should have loathed for killing her Jedi master." He couldn't bring himself to say the word _lover_, so he instead settled on a more appropriate term for the deceased Jedi. "She used him to bypass the pain and grief she was feeling at that moment. He was a convenient mode of escape at the time. And when their partnership ended, she turned to me for comfort from her demons of the past. I will no longer be a party to her hidden agenda. I will not allow her to use me for her own purposes, as she did before."

"Clearly, you have some unresolved anger issues," Rani said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Mical, look inside your heart and you'll find the answer. Carina has always loved you. So, she lost her way for a little while! What matters is she's here now for good, and _you're_ the one who's pushing her away. It's become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Everything you dreamed would happen is happening, and all thanks to you!"

Without waiting for his response, she then left the room, walking down the corridor to the main room where everyone was now gathered—with the exception of Carina. As she entered, her eyes sought out Evy's. The blonde-haired woman was standing near the door and somewhat close to Atton, although there was a visible gap of space between them. Evy seemed to be depressed about the distance between them.

Rani approached her. "Have you seen Carina?"

"No. Where have you been?"

"Taking care of a little problem."

------------

Carina's nap was far from restful. She tossed and turned for at least twenty minutes before finally falling asleep. Her dreams were fragmented with visions of home, her time among the Jedi, and Kavar. She had not thought of the Jedi master since his untimely demise, but now she could see him clearly through the Force. He wore a set of long brown robes and his hair had grown out a few inches, giving him a more youthful appearance. He reached his hand out for her. Carina was hesitant to take it, knowing the contact would bring a resurgence of memories to her mind.

"Take my hand, Carina. You have not yet completed your training. There are things you must learn in order to defeat this mounting evil."

"I want to stay here with you…" she protested, her voice soft and shy as it had been when she first looked at her Jedi master with totally new eyes in the room of a thousand fountains. That seemed like a lifetime ago, but it couldn't have been more than a few months…

"That is not possible."

"Because of death?" she cried.

"No, because there are things in this life you must accomplish. Death does not divide; it only delays. Our bond was not dissolved because of it. But you must put away emotions such as these—anger, passion, love. The Force will sustain you and will be more than sufficient to meet your needs."

She accepted his hand, and instantly they were transported to the training rooms on Coruscant, where she had spent much time learning the proper lightsaber forms. After a long time of training in hand to hand combat, he taught her several more forms and instructed her in the knowledge. Kavar concluded their lesson with a dismissal, his voice echoing after her: "Be mindful of the Force in all that you do. You will meet me again here tomorrow night and I will teach you more."

"Master," Carina said tentatively, "the other Jedi will want to know you are alive…"

"No, and I only exist in your dreams. The Force is the means by which I can visit you. Even death has no hold over the Force."

Carina silently recited the words of the Jedi code, repeating the most important part: _There is no death; there is the Force…_ She hadn't realized when those words were invented, they could be referring to ghostly manifestations created through the Force. How stupid was she not to have realized this before now?

"Master Vrook would be happy—"

"The Jedi will have their suspicions. They will not trust you, Carina. We must keep our meetings secret if they are to commence."

"Yes, Master."

There it was again; that same way Kavar had of making her feel so much like a child. That feeling was only negated by the way his heated eyes had taken in her form on the night they had made love, assuring her he no longer viewed her as a rambunctious Padawan unwillingly assigned to him…

Carina shot awake, the memories of her dream still so fresh and potent in her mind. She got up, flipping back the covers, and resumed packing her suitcase. When she had finished with the last few items, she opened the door and walked down the hall, meeting Mical halfway in the corridor. The blonde Jedi looked uncomfortable, and it showed in his face. He could barely meet her gaze.

"Excuse me."

He nudged past her, hardly acknowledging her. Carina clutched her luggage a little tighter.

"Why won't you look at me?" she cried.

Mical kept his eyes averted.

"Please," she pleaded with him, but to no avail. The doctor walked past her with downcast eyes. Infuriated by this new behavior, Carina shouted out, "It's just as well you are so dispassionate about me, because I am still in love with Kavar. My heart will belong to him always."

Mical paused midway down the corridor, his hand gripping the wall for support, feeling wounded by her words.

"You were nothing more than a convenient distraction."

Although it pained him to say those words, he knew they were necessary if only to make the separation easier for her. He forced himself to continue walking. She lifted her hand, summoning the energy Kavar had prompted her to tap into during her dream. She successfully felt the strength drawing to her. Using the Force, she sent Mical toppling back against the wall. It felt good to unleash her powers on him, but something told her Kavar would not approve of her misuse of the Force.

Mical looked startled. For the first time he stared straight at her, and it was then she noticed the nasty welt beginning to form on his chin from where his face had made contact with the wall. He crouched down to grab his discarded luggage and began picking it up furiously. So Carina did what she knew would prompt a response. She Force shoved him again. This time, she allowed the power to ebb through her for a few seconds, pinning him up against the wall until Rani rounded the corner and saw what was going on. For a minute, it seemed as though the dark-haired woman was going to allow her to continue this behavior. Hesitantly, she stepped forward and said, "Carina, stop."

The woman ignored her, enjoying the feeling harnessing such power gave her. She knew that Rani was the voice of reason and she would ultimately listen to whatever she had to say, but for now she was just having a little bit of fun.

"Carina!"

The harsh tone of voice in which the other woman spoke was enough incentive for her to release her invisible hold on Mical, allowing him the chance to scramble away into the main room as quickly as possible. As soon as he had left, Carina glanced at Rani.

"Are you okay?" the other woman asked, slightly fearful of what she had just witnessed.

"I just…need rest. I'm so tired of everything."

"You'll get it on the ship. Come on, let's go."

She wrapped an arm around Carina and escorted her into the main room.

------------

Evy, although relatively quiet, was not as oblivious to the goings-on as everyone might've thought. Certainly, she was consumed with worry over her fragile relationship with Atton at the moment, but that did not blind her to the suffering of everyone else. Igrayne and Bao had been drifting apart for some time now, and the unannounced fact was only furthered by Dustil's close proximity to Igrayne and Bao's repulsion of them both. The Zabrak shot several subtle glances at his former lover, but nothing more. Additionally, Carina and Mical had their problems. Evy had had high hopes for the both of them, desperately hoping that they would patch things up with one another. However, the fact of the matter was that there were invisible walls between them both; Mical feared for his heart and Carina was loath to accept his wariness. The divisions between all the couples were almost palpable, and they saddened Evy considerably.

Her green eyes casually glanced to her side, where not more than a few feet away the man she loved stood. However, though only a few feet separated them physically, Evy could not have been farther from Atton. It was a strange feeling, she reflected, having your heart lie with a man who wasn't willing to keep it safe. To Evy, it felt as if her heart was detached from her body. Atton had it, she knew. She also knew that no matter what she did, it would always belong to him. Whether he would keep it safe or break it was another matter entirely.

Atton's dark irises met hers, and she could've sworn she saw a sad expression pass over his face—as if he was on the same mental wavelength with her—before it disappeared, replaced by a hard, unforgiving stare. What had happened to the man she had loved? What had happened to the love they'd shared?

"So, we just gonna sit here twiddling our thumbs or what?" Tren voiced his thoughts amid the tense silence.

"Carth said to wait for him to contact us," Han said, leaning back where he sat. "So that's what we're doing."

Indy sat next to Han, shuffling a deck of Sabacc cards almost compulsively. The former smuggler was usually the most laid-back person Evy knew, so for her to be shaken up by recent events was saying a lot. Then again, she was probably still upset about the loss of her beloved ship, the _Centurion's Blade_.

"Fantastic," Tren continued. Evy figured he just liked to hear himself talk. "So we're just going to wait here like sitting ducks until Carth decides he wants to chat?"

"That is _exactly_ what we're doing," Han replied simply, seemingly unaffected by anything.

"Well, that sounds like a load of bullsh—"

"Tren!" Evy said in a warning tone of voice.

Tren looked at her with a sly grin. "What?"

"You know what," Evy told him in an almost motherly voice. "Lay off the complaints. We're all going through the same thing right now."

"All right, all right," he conceded. "Whatever you say, _Celeste_."

Atton tensed visibly beside Evy, drawing attention to himself unintentionally. Tren noticed it as well.

"What's wrong with you?" he questioned, unknowingly opening a can of worms.

"What's wrong with me?" Atton gritted out. "What's wrong with you?!"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you!"

"What did I do?"

"Oh, don't give me that load of crap, Tren." Atton stepped torward him, anger flashing in his eyes. "You've had your eyes on Evy ever since you first joined up with us."

Tren blinked. "Atton, what the _hell_ are you talking about?"

Despite the audience in the room, Atton continued, undaunted. As soon as he was within hitting distance, Tren stood to his feet and backed away a little, just in case. Ever since the incident at the cantina, Atton had been snapping at everything like an angry Laigrek. Most of his anger seemed directed at Evy, but whenever Tren was around, it all was unleashed on him.

"Don't play dumb with me, Tren; you know exactly what I'm talking about," Atton snarled. "You. Evy. Do I need to spell it out?"

"It might help—"

Atton's fist collided with Tren's face before the other man had a chance to respond. The next thing Tren knew, he was lying flat on the floor with his left cheek beginning to bruise and pulse with pain. In the brief moment he was on the floor, things seemed to go in slow motion…at least until Atton yanked him back to his feet, determined for a second round of fisticuffs.

However, before Atton was able to follow through with his second punch, Tren ducked and moved around him. His first instinct was to beat Atton to a pulp, and his second instinct was pretty much the same as the first. Fortunately, his third instinct reminded him that Atton was his best friend, and he shouldn't be too hard on the man. After all, he was only defending Evy, at least in his demented mind.

"Atton—" Tren tried, but Atton was already swinging around to cuff him in the chin. This time, his punch hit home. "Oh, that is it!"

Abandoning all concern for his friend, Tren tackled Atton to the floor, landing a few punches here and there until Atton was able to get back to his feet, grabbing him roughly and shoving him against the thin wall of the safe house.

"Atton!" Evy cried out, unable to believe the scene unraveling in front of her.

Just then, Rani and Carina entered the room. It only took a few seconds for both women to take in the scene.

"The whole galaxy has gone mad," Carina commented wearily.

Rani blinked. "What's going on here?"

Tren dodged a blow and managed to get the upper hand on Atton. "Well, I was about to punch Atton in the face…"

Evy shook her head, her blonde locks falling around her shoulders. "Shut up, Tren."

"I'll shut him up!" Atton volunteered, his fist slamming into Tren's stomach, issuing an audible "oomph!" from the man.

"Knock it off, Atton!" Evy cried in a pathetic attempt to stop the man's assault.

Atton grimaced. "Oh, I'll knock it off. I'll knock Tren's face off!"

Tren elbowed Atton and sidestepped another blow. "What _is_ your problem, Atton?!"

"You!" the dark-haired scoundrel blurted out. "You've been my problem since the moment you decided to try and get into Evy's pants!"

Evy's jaw dropped at that. "Atton Rand!"

Tren blinked. "What?"

Rani, being the voice of reason as usual, interrupted the argument. "Please, Atton, just calm down. Now is really not a good time to—"

"I'll calm down when Tren is six feet under!" the irate man growled in reply.

"Whoa, bro!" Tren defended. "Let's just take a step back for a moment and examine the situation…"

"I'm done _examining_," Atton quipped. "I'm gonna take care of this problem once and for all."

He raised his fist, prepared to bring it down on Tren's temple, but suddenly a slender hand stayed his hand. His eyes showed his surprise as Evy maneuvered in between him and Tren, determination lining her beautiful features. There was a fire in her eyes, the likes of which Atton had not see for quite a while. Her grip wasn't strong, but it was steady, and her posture suggested she did not fear retribution in any way.

"Atton, will you please just stop this? You're acting like a lunatic!"

Instinctively, Atton shoved her away roughly. "Stay out of this, Evy."

"No."

"No?"

"I'm not going to let you hurt Tren anymore, Atton. He has done nothing wrong."

"Kitten…" Tren began warningly, looking from her to Atton with worry.

Evy turned and looked at him. "Not a _word_, Trentyn." She then turned back sharply to glare at Atton. "You're right, Atton. I love Tren. Are you happy? I love him."

Atton immediately sobered. "You do?"

"Yes."

"I knew it," he commented darkly.

He heard the slap before he felt the sting on his cheek.

"What the—"

"Wake up, you bantha brain!" Evy yelled. "I love _you_. I've _always_ loved you! I love Tren, but as a brother. That's all it will ever be, too. I don't know what started this whole thing, but it's going to end. Now."

"You can't—" Atton began to protest.

She stopped him with an imperious raise of her hand. "No. I don't want to hear anymore, Atton. You've had your little pity party, and now it's my turn to say a few words…so sit down, shut up, and listen."

Much to everyone's surprise, Atton sat down.

"He is going to be _so_ whipped by the end of this," Han whispered to Indy.

"Shut up," she whispered back.

Evy looked away from Atton to everyone else. Suddenly, everyone averted their eyes as if they hadn't been watching the fight unfold. Everyone, that is, except Carina, who looked as if she were falling asleep on her feet. She obviously didn't possess the frame of mind to have the courtesy of at least pretending she hadn't been paying attention.

"A little privacy, please?" she prompted.

Han stood up. "Hey! We were here first!"

"Han, c'mon," Indy said. "We can finish our game later—"

"And miss this?" He grinned roguishly. "Not a chance."

Indy roughly grabbed his arm and began dragging him and their luggage outside, following everyone else. "Now, Han."

Now only Atton, Evy, and Tren remained inside of the safe house.

"You, too, Tren," Evy said.

"No way!" he objected. "And leave you here with—"

"_Out_!" Evy snapped sharply.

Tren's face was downcast, but he began moving toward the door. "I'm going, I'm going, sheesh!" And then he, too, was gone.

Evy was silent for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts and feelings into a coherent sentence. She knew she was treading dangerous grounds with Atton at the moment, and she knew that she needed to carefully phrase anything she said to him. Their crumbling relationship depended on her ability to express her heart to him.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Atton beat her to the punch.

"So, I guess this is the part where you tell me how horrible a person I am," he said dryly. "Go ahead, then. Let's get this over with."

"Atton," Evy replied, her voice softening considerably. "You're certainly no saint, but I wouldn't say you're a horrible person."

"Sure, you wouldn't say it," he retorted. "But that wouldn't stop you from thinking it."

"Atton, don't be a child."

The scoundrel sullenly looked away.

She knelt down to be at eye level with him, placing a gentle hand on the side of his face to force him to look at her. "I didn't give up on you before...and I'm not giving up on you now."

"Why?" There was genuine confusion in his eyes as he looked at her. "You could do so much better than me..."

"And don't you forget it!" she teased before becoming somber. "People do lots of crazy and irrational things when they're in love. I don't fault you for it."

He looked at her skeptically.

She sighed. "What is it you want from me, Atton?"

"I want the truth."

"I've given it to you."

"Not all of it," Atton pressed. "I know about how you healed him."

Evy felt herself freeze up. What could she say to that?

"I...I can't explain that."

Atton scoffed. "Yeah, I didn't expect you would be able to."

"If you don't trust me," she continued, anger seeping into her tone, "then won't you at least trust Tren? He's your best friend."

Atton held her gaze for a moment before shaking his head and moving away from her. "Yeah, and I know him a lot better than you might think. This just the sort of thing he would do."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?" he retorted quickly. "Ever since his whole fling with Bastila ended, he's been all over you. And don't try to tell me you haven't noticed."

"Atton," Evy said evenly. "That was just Tren being Tren; you know that."

Atton placed a hand against the wall, inclining his head slightly as if in thought. "Whatever. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Evy stood defiantly. "But I do."

"Like Rani said, now isn't a good time."

"When will it be a good time, then, Atton?" Evy demanded, beginning to grow frustrated with the scoundrel.

"Maybe never."

"I won't accept that," Evy replied, almost breathlessly, stepping in between Atton and the doorway, which was his only escape.

"Then don't." His voice was deadly calm when he said it.

Evy could only watch as he walked away from her. Atton might not be willing to try and fix this relationship, content instead with dwelling on his own misery, but Evy wasn't going to take no for an answer. Even if it was hard work, Evy was going to make certain that she and the scoundrel gave their relationship one last try, for better or for worse.

---------------------

"There," Bao-Dur announced as he stepped down from the loading ramp of the ship, wiping his greasy hands on a small cloth. "That should do it."

Carth nodded; the tension from their previous conversation had not yet completely dispersed. "Great. Exactly which modifications did you make?"

"Well," Bao said. "It's flyable. I did my best with the hyperdrive, but it's still got a few quirks in it...it shouldn't cause any serious problems, though."

"What about the main engines? Terrik said something about them being faulty," Carth queried.

Bao shrugged lightly. "Nothing that a good hyperspace run couldn't fix. They're just rusty from lack of use, but once they're warmed up, they should work fine."

"Sounds good."

"One more thing, Admiral."

"Yes?"

"The orbital drift charts for the ship's navigation system haven't been updated in some time, so we should probably go buy a new one unless you feel like flying into a planet at hyperspace speed," Bao remarked dryly.

Carth cracked a smile. "Point taken. We'll have to pick some up before leaving."

"That's the plan."

"Thanks for all the hard work you did, Bao-Dur," Carth said gratefully. "If it weren't for you, we probably wouldn't even have even made it this far."

Bao-Dur bowed his head respectfully. "It was nothing, Admiral."

Carth placed a friendly hand on the Zabrak's shoulder. "We owe you one. Once we get out of this mess, if there's anything I can ever do for you..."

"Your gratitude is appreciated but not needed, Admiral," Bao-Dur explained. "I'm just doing my part like everyone else."

"Not everyone can repair a ship in such a short amount of time."

"Really, it was not too difficult. Terrik was not lying when he said it was in good shape...especially compared to most of the vessels on his lot."

It was obvious to Carth that the Zabrak was uncomfortable with the praise, so he changed the subject. "Guess it's time, then, to give everyone a call."

Bao-Dur nodded as he walked back in the ship to make any last minute adjustments. Carth turned his back to the ship and took his comm out of his back pocket. It was a few seconds before a familiar voice answered the comm with a small, "Yes?"

"Good to hear you, Gorgeous," Carth smiled. "Could you let everyone know to meet us at Docking Pad 07?"

"All right."

Carth could hear the undercurrent of weariness in her voice. "How're you holding up?"

The comm was silent for a moment before she said, "Could be better. Then again, guess I could be worse, too."

"Hang in there, beautiful."

"Will do, _Admiral_." There was a hint of playfulness in Rani's voice. Then the comm went silent.

Carth turned back and entered the new ship, admiring the work Bao had done in the short amount of time he'd been allocated to fix it up. It helped that it had been in serviceable condition before they'd gotten it, but it was Bao who really turned it into a worthy ship.

It didn't take Carth long to reach the cockpit, and Bao-Dur was already seated in the co-pilot's seat when he came in.

The Zabrak motioned to the pilot's seat. "The helm's all yours, Admiral."

---------------

Igrayne stood on the docking pad along with everyone else. Satchels and luggage of various sizes littered the ground around them when their owners had gotten tired of holding them. The docking pad was quiet save for the little bit of murmuring amongst several members of the group. Isolated from most of the landing pads, Docking Pad 07 was situated on the far border of the Nar Shaddaa Refugee Sector. The stink from the sector was even considerably less where they were, though it didn't make up for the shady individuals who stalked them from the shadows. Igrayne figured they were most likely beggars and thieves rather than anything that presented a real danger to them.

Unable to help herself, she watched the few transports and speeders zoom past them and off into the distance. Even in a quieter part of the sector, Nar Shaddaa was a planet full of noise and life. Whether that life was good or not remained to be seen, but it did have a familiar ebbing in the Force and Igrayne took comfort in her ability to rely on the unseen power.

They had been waiting for Carth and Bao-Dur for an hour or so now, and most had made themselves comfortable by resting on anything they could find, whether it was cargo boxes lying around, their own suitcases, or even the ground. Igrayne, however, had preferred to stand. Whether it was restlessness or something else, she felt safer standing than sitting.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a brief flicker of movement. She looked over and noticed it was Carina. Her head had begun to slump forward but she caught it quickly, looking upward. It was obvious the woman was exhausted, and Igrayne could feel for her. She, too, was quite tired from all the exploits as of late...not to mention the other, more obvious reason.

She decided she'd check on her friend, and quietly snuck over, sitting beside her.

"How're you doing?" she commented softly.

However quiet her voice was, it startled Carina, regardless. She swung her head to face Igrayne, her eyes holding a very unfocused look.

"What?"

Igrayne smiled faintly. "Sorry if I scared you."

"Don't worry about it."

"You look tired."

"Yeah," Carina replied lamely.

"Carth and Bao-Dur might not be here for awhile. If you want to catch up on some sleep, I can wake you up when they arrive," Igrayne offered.

Carina smiled sleepily. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

Igrayne thought it strange Carina didn't want to take advantage of a little rest. However, what she was unaware of was the fact that Carina was slightly afraid to fall asleep. She did not want to dwell on the past, on Kavar, and when he visited her in her dreams only to leave her when she woke up, it was like reopening a bleeding wound. She didn't seem to have any control in her dreams, and that gave her an extraordinary sense of helplessness.

Her eyelids drooped, and she felt herself slipping from consciousness. In a desperate attempt to wake up, she pinched herself. It worked as she let out a hiss of pain and let her head rest against the wall behind her.

It didn't take her long to notice Igrayne's inquisitive gaze.

"How about you? How are you holding up?" Carina asked in a pitiful attempt to change the subject and keep her mind awake through a conversation.

"As well as can be expected," she replied.

"That bad, huh?" Carina smirked.

Igrayne sighed faintly. "I guess I'm just not sure what to do."

"About what?"

"Everything, really."

Carina nodded in understanding, though Igrayne wasn't certain if she really did understand.

"Wanna talk about it?" Carina asked.

"Are you awake enough to listen?" Igrayne asked skeptically.

Carina yawned. "I can multitask. Go ahead."

She doubted Carina would remember anything she told her, anyway, so Igrayne figured she might as well unload everything that was weighing on her heart.

"It's Bao-Dur," Igrayne said in a quiet voice. "He's just so..._distant_. I know I can't blame him for what's happened to us; it was just as much my fault, too. It just seems as if he's given up. He doesn't even want to try...and I'm not sure if I care anymore." Even as she uttered the last comment, she knew it was a lie.

"I see."

"And Dustil..." She trailed off with an audible sigh. "At least _he's_ trying."

"Dustil's a punk," Carina commented simply.

"Carina!"

"Sorry," she murmured in an insincere voice.

"You'd be surprised," Igrayne continued. "He can be really sweet when he wants to be. Sure, he's made a lot of mistakes in the past...but who hasn't?"

Carina chuckled darkly, still unconvinced. "Tell me about it."

"I genuinely believe he can change back to the good person he once was, the boy who Carth knew," Igrayne said. "Maybe he just needs a little help."

"You mean an incentive."

"You know what I mean, Carina."

The emerald-eyed woman thought for a moment—which was mildly difficult considering her foggy state of mind—and then smiled faintly. "Well, whatever makes you happy."

Igrayne hadn't expected that answer. "What?"

"Do whatever makes you happy," Carina repeated. "Screw the galaxy."

The ebony-haired woman furrowed her brow, her lips formulating an answer with which she had been preprogrammed to reply. "I'm not sure I agree with that philosophy. There are consequences for every action and—"

"You're thinking too much like a Jedi, Igrayne," Carina said, yawning again. It was obvious that she was completely out of her mind. "Don't think about what a Jedi would or should want...think about what _you_ want."

"What if I don't know what I want?" Igrayne whispered. When Carina didn't respond, Igrayne looked at her. "Carina?"

But her friend had finally succumbed to the sleep that she had long fought against. And Igrayne was left to contemplate the logic of her words.


	27. Preparing for Battle

Bao-Dur eased the ship onto the landing platform in the far edge of the Refugee Sector. The engines roared at a dull hum, and as the vessel touched ground, a hiss of air could be heard. Carth, who was occupying the co-pilot's seat, flicked a switch to allow their companions to enter the boarding ramp.

The two men waited patiently for everyone to board, staring out the viewport at the long line of buildings ahead of them. Sometime during the planet's more peaceful days, these buildings had represented a prosperous metropolis that welcomed a steady influx of trade and commerce, but now it was little more than a criminal haven, home to some of the worst kinds of shady characters. Though neither the Zabrak nor the admiral said anything, they were happy to be leaving this sorrowful little toxic waste dump of a planet and the equally diseased area of space it occupied.

"We've opened the hatch," Carth spoke into the commlink.

"We're preparing to come aboard, admiral," Mical's voice said through the static. "Han is stowing the luggage in the cargo hold, and then it should be a smooth flight from there."

"Onasi out." The admiral's finger flickered over the transceiver. He dropped the commlink in his lap, stooping over the communications console to program their new coordinates into the navicomputer.

Bao-Dur lifted himself from his seat. "I will go and help them."

"Good idea. They need all the pairs of hands they can get."

The Zabrak trotted down the landing ramp, extending his arm to the smuggler to expedite the process of stowing the luggage. As he worked, the crew boarded. Igrayne passed by him, keeping her eyes straight ahead and staring at Dustil's back. As soon as she entered the main hold, she sat down by one of the far walls, holding her arms around her. The young man, who was never far behind, crept up to her and began rubbing her shoulders.

"You okay?"

"I'm tired."

"Well, take a breather. As soon as everyone's onboard, we'll be space-bound."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she said hoarsely, not realizing before how weak she sounded.

"It's because I care. Is that so hard to believe?"

"No. But I wish you didn't care so much. It would make all this much easier."

"Yeah, well, I've _never_ opted for easy in anything I've done…"

"Clearly."

The main hold was now filled with most, if not all, of their companions, milling aimlessly about and waiting for directions from their pilot. Trinn and Mithic stood near the hatchway Bao-Dur had just closed, while the Zabrak and Han worked to move their various articles of luggage into the vacant cargo hold. Evy, Carina, and Rani stood huddled close together, discussing something privately among themselves. Atton and Tren did their best to avoid each other. Mical went to unload his medical equipment in the makeshift medbay, which, judging by the doctor's groan, wasn't at all up to the standards he was used to. Indy, for the most part, stood around looking puzzled. And Igrayne just curled closer into the arm Dustil had extended around her back, leaning her weight into him.

The ship was clearly lacking in many amenities the _Centurion's Blade_ had boasted; the lighting, for one, was quite poor. The malfunctioning electrical system made certain there was never a steady supply of fluorescent light, which made all of their duties considerably more difficult. Additionally, the ship's chassis itself was smaller and harder to maneuver around in, and with fourteen people cramped together in such close quarters, Igrayne surmised it would be much more difficult to avoid Bao-Dur than she had been expecting.

"What are we waiting for?" Igrayne asked the younger Onasi, who seemed to be enjoying his open display of affection with her, their noses touching, brought into contact by their forced proximity.

"My father is by the book about these things. He will no doubt have to gain clearance for liftoff. Me, I say we burn sky until we see lines."

"And what happens after that?"

"Well, let's hope we're even around to see an 'after.'" The look on Igrayne's face betrayed her shock, and he immediately softened his sober demeanor to put her at ease. "But that's only if worst comes to worst. Let me go up and talk to my father, find out what's going on."

"Okay," she said gently, releasing his arm. Dustil padded up the thin passage into the ship's cockpit, plopping gingerly into the seat beside Carth. They were joined not long after by Rani, who peeled herself away from her friends to go and greet Carth with a quick embrace. The urgency of their need to get off Nar Shaddaa, however, was pressing, so she released him almost immediately.

"It's good to see you," she said civilly, trying to keep her words fairly neutral so as to avoid upsetting Dustil. The younger Onasi was doing his best trick of being invisible, sinking into his chair at the display of affection between his father and the young woman.

"You too, gorgeous. Say, can you give them a hand back in the cargo bay with the luggage? I need Bao-Dur up here in case we need to make some modifications and repairs on the fly."

"Of course. Is there anything else you two need up here?"

"Yeah, how about a massage and some Tarisian ale?" Dustil quipped. Rani nudged him playfully.

"I'll be back with your things."

She exited the cockpit, her desire to be of help to Carth driving her quickly back toward the cargo bay, where Bao-Dur and Han were busily stowing the luggage.

Igrayne chewed at her left fingernail, feeling the mounting trepidation as the realization of how serious their situation actually was began to take hold. Eklipse and his minions were closing in on them, and if they didn't evacuate Nar Shaddaa now, they could all be dead. Their timing was critical.

A sharp pain numbed her senses. It blossomed throughout her entire body, paralyzing her for a few moments. She realized the anxiety she was feeling now was reflecting on the baby, so she took a seat on the floor. It was cold and uncomfortable, and Igrayne was so antsy that she couldn't sit still for too long. She sprang to her feet, pacing quietly back and forth while she weighed her options. Living the life of a fugitive constantly on the run was beginning to take its toll on her. She wanted to return to happier days, when she was a Jedi knight training on Dantooine and Coruscant with the masters, when war and politics seemed so far removed from her everyday life.

Igrayne walked quickly across the main hold, past the broken computer terminals and discarded droids that Bao-Dur had scavenged for parts. She entered the medbay as inconspicuously as possible, planting her feet in the doorway and both hands on her hips. Mical, who was busily arranging his medical instruments in a neat row inside the spacious utility cabinets lining the walls, looked up when he heard her enter.

"Igrayne, what are you doing here? Is something the matter?"

"Mical, I need you to help me."

"Igrayne, what is it?"

She turned around and attempted to close the door, but it was no use; the thing was busted.

"How do you lock this?"

"There is no lock. But I can close it. Here, let me."

He went over and wrestled with the disobedient door for a few minutes before it finally complied. When he turned to face Igrayne, he realized her furrowed brow could only mean one thing.

"Mical, I can't do this."

"Igrayne, what are you talking about?"

"The baby, Mical. I'm so confused. I don't know what to do."

Teary-eyed, she sat down on the small medical cot since there were no chairs for patients in the room. Mical rubbed her shoulder gently, trying to extend his deepest sympathies to her somehow through his words and actions. However, his words failed him.

"It will be all right. It is understandable with everything that has happened. We are all under the same amount of pressure as you are, I can assure you."

"I am so scared," she said, feeling her resolve cave. She had worked to hard to keep up a tough appearance, and now it was failing her when she needed it most. She had never felt so weak and vulnerable in her life. But she was glad it was Mical who was here to witness it, and not Bao-Dur or Dustil.

"Please, Mical, I need your help."

"Igrayne, no. I can and will not sanction this. I will not help you to end a life. I can't have that on my conscience."

Her eyes scanned his cabinets, which were stocked full of pills, vitamins, vaccine, and serum. She shot up and went over toward them, rifling through the cabinets, causing a great ruckus.

"Then I will do it myself. Now tell me where you keep the abortifacients. This, is this it?" She held up one case of pills which her search had produced.

"No, Igrayne!" Mical quickly snatched them from her hand. "You do not want to take these. These would almost certainly kill you. They're barbiturates, used for mild sedation…and sometimes lethal overdoses."

She flirted with the idea of snatching the case out of his hand, and then playfully dismissed it. "My, you do live dangerously for a doctor. What do you keep them here for, then?"

"In a pinch, I can administer them in place of anesthesia. That is the only reason I keep them with me. Not to potentially kill one of my crew members."

"You think I care about my own life anymore? When I found out I was pregnant, I asked the Force to kill me." Her dark lashes flickered over her downcast eyes. "If I return to the Order like this, I will be cast out, disgraced. I can't let it come to that, Mical."

She wrestled with him for control of the case, but Mical was surprisingly strong. She would not have judged him thus just from looking at him, but he was able to overpower her with little effort.

"All right," he said, panting, worn out from their little tussle. "All right, I will perform the procedure. But you must promise me never to harm yourself in any way. I have never lost a patient yet, and I don't plan to."

She forgot for one moment this was the same man who had broken Carina's heart, and saw him for what he really was: a man who had been dealt a cruel hand of fate. That was certainly something she could recognize. She reached out and touched him on the shoulder, trying to show him some comfort in any way possible.

"I promise. Just please help me."

"If this is what you want."

"It is."

"Very well."

Mical went to board up the door to the medbay, hoping the busted lock would work in his favor and prevent those that were on the outside from easily gaining access to the room while he was working. He then went to drape the table with fresh paper while Igrayne undressed in a corner of the room and donned a flimsy medical gown. It felt strange to be this naked in front of the doctor, but she had to remind herself that he was a professional and he knew what he was doing.

As Mical arranged the instruments needed for the procedure, Igrayne climbed onto the bed, her eyes focused on the flickering white light overhead. She felt trepidation about going through with this, but she had gone over it so many times in her head and come to the same conclusion each time. Her loyalties no longer belonged to the Zabrak, but to the Jedi Order, and this was her final and last act of proving that loyalty. She was relieved this little problem would be taken care of swiftly and painlessly, and she hoped that none of her Jedi masters would be any the wiser for it.

When Mical turned toward her, the feeling of emptiness in her wide open hand was quickly supplanted by warmth, as the young doctor placed his hand in hers and gave it a fond squeeze. In that moment, she knew that everything was going to be all right. They understood each other's pain because they had each been through an equally devastating set of circumstances. Igrayne squeezed his hand back, feeling reassured.

"If you feel discomfort, please let me know," Mical said, lifting the medical gown slightly to administer a numbing medication to her abdomen. Igrayne felt the medicine take effect and focused her eyes on the flickering light overhead, trying to calm her nerves. Although she was with Mical and her friends were only in the next room, she had never felt more alone in her life. She heard the jingling of Mical's medical instruments as he quietly went to work…

-----------

"So what's the big hold-up?" Dustil queried his father.

"Some wise guy in the control booth up there thinks it's funny to delay us," Carth said with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"So how can I help?"

Carth looked up, pleasantly surprised that Dustil was offering his services to him. The last time they had spoken, Dustil had expressed his dislike of his father and Rani's relationship in no uncertain terms.

"Double-check my coordinates, son."

"Will do, dad."

Their happy reunion was short-lived however, when they saw a long shadow skulking up the snake-like passageway from the main hold. Neither one of them was surprised to see Mithic there, walking toward them as if in a trance.

"Eklipse is here."

"Yeah, we know. We're just about to get clearance here, so as soon as—"

"No, _he's here_!" Mithic screamed once and then crumpled to the ground as though wounded by the Force. Both Carth and Dustil exchanged dual looks of fear.

-----------

"My lord, we have found them."

After years of wandering through the galaxy looking for clues to his brother's—and now his companions'—whereabouts, the words caused the normally apathetic Darth Eklipse to snap his head upwards, his cold eyes filled with a sudden light. He had been deprived of much joy since he had begun this great hunt, his only source of satisfaction being in the scraps of information he had collected. He had spent more and more time poring over them, searching for a pattern. Immediately, though, he heard a voice echoing through his mind with a snide hiss: "They haven't. When have they ever?" He vaguely recognized the voice in his head as his own, but he drew no conclusion from this. Obsession had begun to tear his mind apart, but he tried not to think about it.

"You had better be sure of this, Ensign."

Eklipse arose from his seat and walked down the bridge to where Ensign Kale was seated at his console, scanning the area for signs of Force-sensitivity. The scanner itself was a piece of arcane genius made with equal parts state-of-the-art planet side scanners and ancient Sith alchemy. Eklipse had spent quite some time crafting the machine, using his own tortured mind to calibrate the signal and feeding off of the minds of his lesser "apprentices" to power the device as though they were living batteries. Nothing was too vile or too repugnant for Eklipse anymore, nothing that would lead him further on his mad quest. And now, it had paid off.

Eklipse took the viewing helmet from the ensign, who showed visible relief at finally being free of that demonic machine. Using the scanner was like peering into a different world: walls melted away, space and time contorted into gruesome and insane forms, and it seemed as though all the galaxy was in view, most of it in darkness. Living beings glowed a dim, brownish light to the devil-sight of the Jedi hunter—as some of the crew had named it—but a single Force-sensitive glowed as brightly as a hundred stars, both in the impossibly far distance and as close as a mile or so. It was enough to strain the sanity of anyone who was not used to seeing into the Force, but the ensign had some skill in Force sight, and so he was chosen for the job of using the Jedi-hunter.

Eklipse put on the helmet, and he could _feel_ rather than see the presence of his brother's group on the surface of the pollution-choked world of Nar Shaddaa. They were so close now; the light nearly gave him a headache from just a glance, but a glance was all he needed. They were here, and that was what mattered.

"Good work. I'm putting you in charge of navigation, _Lieutenant_ Kale."

"Er... Thank you, my lord."

Eklipse seemed to ignore the new lieutenant's expression of thanks, and a booming voice that was not quite his filled the entire ship through not quite natural means.

"All units, defensive positions! Pilot, bring the ship into low orbit!"

Eklipse's dark warship dropped into real space with a _thump_ on reality itself, and it descended to a low orbit over the planet, low enough that its dark shadow could be seen even through the choking green clouds surrounding the planet. It had begun.

--------------

Bastila's eyes snapped open as what felt like an electric current passed through her. She stood from her meditative position and looked around the room once as if to discover the source of the disturbance. She was not surprised when she did not find it in her immediate vicinity. A few moments of silent reflection passed and another current coursed through her. This time it was more powerful, almost a tremor in the Force. She knew then that she must speak with Master Vrook about this.

Calmly, though with great urgency, the female Jedi navigated the corridors of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. For being the sanctuary and home of the Jedi, there were few Jedi actually present in the massive building. The past wars had ravaged the galaxy, and there was much to do if the Republic was to survive and maintain its dominance. The Jedi, the "Keepers of the Peace," had been summoned to do many things across the stars, and now they were spread thin. Many of the masters believed they were spread _too_ thin.

With the halls of the magnificent temple relatively empty, it did not take Bastila long to reach her destination. Taking the central elevator, she rode to the top of the looming structure. Immediately after that, she entered the Jedi Council room. The twelve seats once occupied by powerful Jedi masters were empty; dust rested on several seats, proof to the long absences of some of the masters. A lone figure stood on the opposite of the room. His back was to Bastila, but his balding head and stiff stance gave away his identity.

Bastila stopped in the center of the Council Room and bowed silently, as was custom. She was still in the presence of one Jedi master, and that was enough to garner a respectful bow.

"Master Vrook..." she began, her voice piercing the silence.

Vrook did not turn or acknowledge her in any way, but he did speak. "You have felt it, too, no doubt."

"It was such a quiet thing, at first," Bastila said, "but over the past several weeks, it has grown louder, more pronounced. It is as you predicted."

"So it is."

"What should we do, Master?"

Vrook turned to face Bastila, and his face looked weary. In all the time she had known him, Bastila had never known Vrook to show his age. The master was old, of course, but he was always so strict, stern, and strong that Bastila often forgot that age did not discriminate; he might be a Jedi, but even he could not elude the effects of time.

"Master?" Bastila prompted.

"There is nothing we can do," he said gruffly.

"But, surely we can—"

He cut her off. "Jedi Bastila, you are wise beyond your years, but you still do not understand the many complexities of the Force."

Bastila eyed him warily. "I do not understand your meaning."

"Of course you don't," Vrook scoffed. "None of us truly understand the full capacity of power that Eklipse wields."

"Eklipse?"

"That is the name this threat goes by," Vrook elaborated. "What we know about him is limited, and that which we do know, we do not understand."

Bastila remained silent, allowing the Jedi master to continue.

"Where this being came from is still unknown, but his power is one we know all too well."

"Is he Sith?"

Vrook thought for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. "No. But nor is he Jedi, that much is apparent. Eklipse feeds off the Force, whereas the Sith manipulate it and the Jedi are allied to it. It's as if he is draining the Force for his own gain, though his motives are still...ambiguous, at best."

"Then what are we to do, Master Vrook?" Bastila asked, impatiently. "Admiral Onasi and his allies will be massacred by this..._thing_, if we don't do something."

"So you would repay violence with more violence?"

The scolding tone in Vrook's voice angered Bastila more than anything else. "It is better than serving the enemy with inaction."

"You know this how?"

Bastila's eyes widened ever so slightly, but when she opened her mouth to counter his words, nothing came out. She promptly shut it.

Vrook's lips were pressed tightly together. "I thought as much."

"They are our friends," Bastila tried. "We would be doing a great disservice to them if we did not try to help them."

"Do not let your feelings get in the way of what is important here, Bastila," Vrook retorted. "Do not forget that they are still wanted criminals of the Republic."

Bastila frowned, narrowing her eyes. "You know as well as I do that all the charges against them are false."

"Be that as it may, neither you nor I hold the power over the senate or the courts; it is not our decision."

"Perhaps not, but we can still lend them our aid."

"In what form?"

"If this Eklipse is Force-sensitive then it will take a Force-sensitive to beat him," Bastila explained quickly. "You could send some Jedi or—"

"Bah!" Vrook cried. "And what good would that do? We are spread thin enough as it is...to diminish our ranks further would cause possibly irreparable damage to the Jedi Order, not to mention the galaxy! And before you try and counter, think of the Jedi we have left here at the temple. They are no more than padawans and apprentices. They are no Jedi knights; they would not be able to stand up against such a foe. It would be a slaughter."

He had a point. Bastila knew this. But still...

"I will go," she said at last.

The old Jedi master vehemently shook his head. "That would not be possible."

Bastila approached him defiantly. "Why not?"

"You do not understand this enemy, Bastila, and without understanding your opponent, you will have no chance of beating them," Vrook pointed out. "That is one of the most basic fundamentals of lightsaber training, or have you forgotten the teachings already?"

The female Jedi clenched her hands tightly together to resist the urge she felt to strike the master. She instead calmly recited the words of the Jedi Code in her mind.

"If we do not stop this threat at its source, then the galaxy is doomed anyway."

"That is uncertain."

"That is a _fact_," Bastila persisted. "Have you forgotten who Admiral Onasi travels with?"

Vrook looked at her with a penetrating gaze that Bastila almost want to retreat. "I most certainly have not."

Bastila stood her ground. "He travels with the Jedi Igrayne and the Jedi Bao-Dur, as well as with Evy and Carina." _And Tren,_ she thought inwardly.

"Evy and Carina both have forsaken their ties to the Jedi; it is evident enough by their actions," Vrook practically growled.

"Regardless, they could be valuable to the Republic's restoration effort for many years to come," Bastila suggested. "But not if they are dead."

Vrook gave her his back again. "This conversation is over, Jedi Bastila. Attend to your duties and let the matter drop."

Bastila turned to leave instinctively, but for some reason, her legs would not permit her to leave the room. With her back to Vrook's, she spoke. "The matter is not over, Vrook. I am going to help Admiral Onasi and his companions."

Vrook turned sharply to glare at her. "Then you would be directly disobeying an order given by a Jedi master."

"I am well aware of the consequences, Master." Her tone was icy, clipped.

Vrook's features softened slightly. "Your loyalty to your friends is both admirable and foolhardy."

Bastila said nothing in response.

"Very well," he relented. "Go on this suicide mission, but you are doing so in direct contradiction to my orders."

A sudden sense of foreboding filled Bastila, but she stifled the feeling and turned to face Vrook with what she hoped was a steadfast expression. "A wise Jedi master once told me that if good people do nothing, then evil triumphs."

Vrook snorted, recognizing the words as his own. Bastila smiled slyly and then made her departure. The Jedi master looked back out across the massive city, speeders and transports zooming far below the spires where he was, lost in thought. A small _tap-tap_ of a gimer stick reached his ears.

"Master Vandar."

"Much conflict I sense in you," the small green Jedi commented. "And fear."

Vrook sighed. "The galaxy is falling apart."

"Believe this, do you?"

"Yes."

The small alien tapped his gimer stick on the ground as he moved to sit in his seat. "Believe this, I do not."

"You've always been the optimist."

"No," Vandar disagreed. "See the world the same as you, I do. But hope, I have, as well."

Vrook remained broodingly silent.

"Blame Bastila, you do, for her choice to help her friends, hmm?"

"She is thinking with her feelings instead of her head."

"Dangerous, that is," Vandar nodded. "But sometimes, the right path...it is."

"By fighting Eklipse, she is forfeiting her life," Vrook snapped. "What kind of Jedi would throw away their life for a lost cause?"

Vandar was silent for a moment before replying, "One who finally understands."

----------

"Father!" Dustil cried, pointing out the viewport at the massive ship looming over the Refugee Sector.

The Refugee Sector was large, and the skyscrapers that soared into the sky gave it a feeling of vastness. However, the entire sector seemed to be dwarfed by the gargantuan ship. Dark silver, the vessel seemed to glimmer amidst the polluted skies. It seemed as if it were directly over them, but Carth knew this was a trick of his eyes and that the ship was actually in low orbit. Since that was the case, Carth knew he had to get them out of here fast or they would have no chance.

"Tell everyone to get ready!" Carth ordered. "We're taking off now!"

Dustil did as he told, understanding the severity of the situation. He had just finished telling those in the cramped main hold to buckle up when the ship lurched. Carth had thrown the power switches and was blasting off. Everyone quickly looked for something to hold onto, Dustil included. The ship lurched again, and by the expression on Bao-Dur's face, Dustil knew the ship wasn't in perfect condition.

Rani struggled through the narrow hallway toward the cockpit. She had to get to Carth. A small part of her believed that if she could just get to him, then everything would work out. It was her heart that was convinced their love could protect them through anything and everything, even helping them outrun a maniac Sith lord, or whatever Eklipse was.

There was a muffled _thump-thump-thump_ as laser fire thudded into the hull of their new vessel. The force of the impact threw Rani off balance and into the opposite wall. She pulled away, noticing blood dripping down a cut on her arm, but it was only superficial, so she continued on to the cockpit with even more determination than before.

"Rani!" Carth exclaimed when she flung herself into the co-pilot's seat, grasping at the weak buckles to strap herself in.

"Don't worry about me," Rani replied quickly. "Just get us out of here!"

"Working on it," he remarked through gritted teeth as he dodged some more laser fire.

More blasts found their mark and the ship groaned and lurched at the contact. A drop of sweat rolled down Carth's face as he struggled with the practically unresponsive controls. He sure missed the _Centurion's Blade_ right about now.

"Watch out!" Rani cried as they narrowly dodged another burst of fire.

Alarms were going off all over the ship, and Carth knew the ship wouldn't be able to take this abuse much longer.

"What the hell is going on?!" Atton demanded as he practically skidded into the cockpit.

"Not now, Atton," Rani told him.

"I—" Atton had to catch himself as the ship was rocketed by a near-miss. "Frack!"

"Sit down and strap yourself in, Atton," Carth barked.

Atton did just that in the seat behind Carth. "What's the game plan?"

"Fly."

"That's it?"

"Fly faster than the other ship," Carth elaborated sarcastically. "Better?"

Atton felt the ship shudder again. "Yep. Sounds good to me."

Suddenly, the laser fire ceased. A grin spread on Carth's face.

"I think they're giving up!"

As if on cue, the ship gave a mighty groan and then the controls all seized up.

"Oh, shit!" Atton murmured.

Carth's face was a mask of confusion as he stared at the frozen controls.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Atton commented.

"Why'd we stop?" Indy asked as she and Han made their way up into the cockpit.

"Now it's a party," Atton remarked sarcastically.

Indy glared at him before looking back at Carth. "Well?"

"We seem to be stuck in some sort of tractor beam..." Carth supplied.

Indy looked at the controls, realizing she was fairly familiar with them, and then practically shoved Carth out of his seat. "Move!" she ordered. "They aren't getting me without a fight!"

She started flipping switches and the lights on the ship suddenly went out. She looked to Rani. "Rotate that button to 180 degrees slowly." Rani did as she was told and all the ship's system seemed to turn off—all except life support, of course.

"What're you doing, Indy?" Han asked, voicing everyone's question aloud.

"Tractor beams rely heavily upon electromagnetic sources, so if the ship's systems are down, then the beam will have more difficulty registering its target...us."

Han grinned roguishly. "Atta girl."

"Thank me later," Indy said grimly. "It slowed down our descent into the ship; it didn't stop it. That's gotta be the strongest tractor beam I've ever come across!"

"So what are you saying?" Carth queried darkly. "Are we trapped?"

"Afraid so."

Carth frowned and then turned to Han and Atton. "Make sure everybody's ready. Seems we're going to have to fight our way out of this one."

Atton frowned. "I was afraid you'd say that."

---------------

If Carina thought the tension in the small ship couldn't have gotten worse, she was proven terribly wrong. The moment Han and Atton announced tthey were going to have to fight their way out of this onboard Eklipse's ship, the whole crew had grown deathly silent. Carina could've read their minds to find out what they were all thinking, but she knew it'd be a waste of time since their thoughts and emotions were written clearly on their faces.

As the crew finally began to mill about, gathering weapons and making last minute adjustments to them, Carina head to the cargo hold where her things were, including her lightsaber.

On her way there, however, she noticed Igrayne sitting by herself in one of the dark corridors, both arms hugging herself. She looked absolutely crestfallen, and Carina was unsure why. As she headed toward her, she noticed the medical lab door open a crack, and a certain blonde doctor moving about in it. Immediately, she was filled with pain, longing, and grief, but she stifled it and continued until she was kneeling next to Igrayne.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concerned.

Igrayne's expression was peculiar, and Carina had difficulty reading her friend, even when she spoke. "I am now."

"What do you mean?"

"It's nothing. Forget it."

"Did you get hurt during the attack?" Carina queried, helping Igrayne to her feet.

The ebony-haired woman shook her head. "No."

"We're supposed to prepare for a boarding party," Carina continued as they walked companionably to the cargo hold. "Do you think you'll be up for this?"

"I'm a Jedi," Igrayne said with conviction. "If it is the will of the Force, I will be up for anything."

Carina cracked a smile. "If you say so."

The younger woman started to look through her things. When she noticed her lightsaber, she felt that wave of nostalgia crash over her again, threatening to drag her under. She covered the lightsaber with some clothes and grabbed a vibroblade she'd kept with her during the trip but hadn't used. Igrayne watched her with curious eyes.

"You're not going to use your lightsaber?" she wondered aloud.

Carina shook her head. "It is no longer my lightsaber."

"Indeed?" Igrayne looked confused. "A lightsaber is the mark of a Jedi, though, and—"

"I am no Jedi," Carina interrupted her. "I haven't been for a long time."

"Carina," Igrayne began, "You can say that all you want, but being a Jedi is part of who you are. You just can't stop being one."

"Watch me."

"Look, I know you've made some mistakes, but so have I. Granted, not as bad ones, but there's no degree of bad here," Igrayne persisted. "What I'm trying to say is that giving up on being a Jedi is like giving up on yourself. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices to maintain our beliefs...but they're worth it. Trust me."

Carina looked at her warily, almost suspiciously. "I know you mean well, Igrayne, it's just—I'm so tired of feeling bad. I'd rather feel nothing. It's better...it's easier. And being a Jedi...well, that just brings up too many bad memories."

"I understand, but you can't ignore your memories forever. We like to ignore the past, but eventually it comes back to haunt us," Igrayne pointed out, the words feeling strangely prophetic. "You can't run away from who you are."

Carina sighed, looking grim. "It's funny, actually...even a little ironic."

"What?"

"People say that bad memories cause the most pain, but it's actually the good ones that drive us insane," Carina commented.

Igrayne swallowed hard, her friend's statement hitting home. She suddenly thought of Bao-Dur and of the child that no longer was living inside of her. She could feel the echo of the tiny child's heartbeat through the Force, strong, hearty. But the reality of her situation soon displaced the feeling of comfort that thought provided. The emptiness was already beginning to consume her. "Yeah."

Carina placed the vibroblade back inside her bag and pulled out her lightsaber, clipping it to her belt. "But I guess you're right. Maybe I should give this one more chance..."

"Maybe you should give Mical one more chance, too," Igrayne told her, unable to stop herself.

Conflict danced in the depths of Carina's emerald eyes, intermixed with the swirling power inside of them. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words would come out, so she shut her mouth slowly, turning away from Igrayne as if turning her back on old wounds.

Carina felt Igrayne's slender hand rest on her shoulder reassuringly. "Sometimes...you have to forgive people."

"Why?" Carina whispered, her voice almost cracking with emotion.

"Because you want them back in your life."

Carina bowed her head, lost in thought.

"I know you'll do the right thing when it comes down to it." Igrayne gave her friend a genuine smile. Despite all the hurt, all the betrayals, all the pain, Igrayne still found something to smile about. Carina respected that about her friend.

The brown-haired Jedi placed her hand on Igrayne's shoulder as well, mimicking the gesture. "Whatever happens, thank you, Igrayne. For everything."

The two women embraced like sisters, and in a sense, they were. All the women aboard the broken ship had bonded together like sisters, and no matter what happened, they had all pledged to be there for one another in the end.

-----------

Luthan stared out the viewport, feeling extremely displeased with himself. He had just issued a command to the hard-working drones on the bridge of his master's ship, and now the vessel's enormously powerful tractor beam was causing the small ship sitting just beyond their viewport to gravitate toward them. But one of the drones, Lieutenant Kale, who had just been promoted from his rank of ensign, had been the first to spot the ship, listlessly drifting in a vast nebula of stars, and inform his master. Eklipse had wasted no time in heaping praise upon the lowly man whom Luthan now viewed with disgust. He had worked hard for the Sith lord all these years—and this was the thanks he got?

Luthan paced the bridge, trying to channel his anger into something constructive. It would be moments before they could board, so he still had time to recapture some of the glory of the small ship's imminent defeat. He briefly abandoned his post to go and locate Syrena, the beautiful woman Eklipse had given to him as his apprentice.

Luthan cleared his mind, reaching out with the Force to try and detect her whereabouts on the ship. Fortunately for him, all signs pointed to the engine room. Luthan followed the trail down the long corridor of the capital ship, stopping when he found the door he was looking for. He slammed his fist on the blast door, which was sealed. He continually slammed the door, calling for the woman, when his attempts at channeling the Force into his movements failed. His efforts were met with success, as Syrena appeared on the other side of the door. Luthan stormed in immediately.

"Gather your men and meet me at the transfer hatchway; we have visitors."

"Already?" she said, her hand on the hilt of her lightsaber. Luthan could sense she was eager to use it. He had to fight to keep from smiling. _Soon you will have the opportunity_, he thought, _and your training will at last be complete_.

"Yes. I detected them moments before, sitting around idling in space. The fools. They should have run while they had the chance."

"I'll alert my arsenal of soldiers," the woman said, crossing her hands regally behind her back as her master looked at everywhere and nowhere in particular.

"Very good. When you have done so, you may want to visit a weapons cache, see what you can scrounge up for those soldiers. Our guests include a Republic admiral, a war veteran, a smuggler, and a scoundrel. My guess is they're heavy on artillery. I am not going to make the mistake of underestimating them."

"Good thinking," she said, her violet eyes glowing with the excitement she was currently radiating. Luthan could smell her desire for blood, which thickly laced the air. Soon she would have her chance, and if her regular training exercises were any indication of her stalwartness in battle, he was confident she would not disappoint him.

"And Syrena." Luthan was already moving toward the door when he said this.

"Yes?"

"Look after yourself. Don't let them get the jump on you…or me."

"I will, my master."

--------------

As the powerful military-grade tractor beam projector continued to pull the ship within its range, Carth tried fruitlessly to affect the ship's trajectory. Ordinarily, outsmarting a tractor beam operator was a game of wits and luck. If Carth could just find some way to outmaneuver the pull of the targeting computer, he might be able to manage it. The ship was a small enough craft, with powerful engines, and was more than capable of doing so. But Carth's movements at the navicomputer were frenzied, and his fingers input several incorrect orders that the ship automatically rejected, reducing the window of time in which they might manage an escape.

"It's no use," Carth said huskily, combing a heavy hand through his hair in frustration. "The damn thing's stuck!"

It was a good thing Indy had left the cockpit moments before because Carth didn't enjoy swearing in female company. Right now, however, swearing was all he could do.

"Let me try!" Dustil said, bumping him out of the pilot's seat to take command of the ship. Carth, surprisingly, didn't object. With the restoration of their father-son bond, he had gained a newfound respect for his son, who he viewed as his equal in almost every way. Dustil had fortunately inherited most of Carth's better traits—his skills with a blaster, his ability to pilot a ship—and also some of his not so impressive ones. Masterfully commanding a stubborn communications console seemed to be one of them.

"Dammit," the young man cursed. "What do we do?"

"Prepare to be boarded, I suppose," Carth said sadly. "Go inform the others."

"No point. We already heard."

The two men turned back to see Atton Rand standing in the c0ckpit, one arm casually draped across the aperture dividing the pilot's quarters from the rest of the ship. His perpetually messy hair hung over his eyes, and he struggled in vain to tame the few disobedient strands as he spoke.

"I say we load up on weapons, get everything we possibly could from the cargo hold and weapons cache in back, and we fight. What other choice do we have?"

"Good point," Dustil agreed, pausing for a moment to give himself enough time to formulate a sardonic remark. "As much as I hate to say it, Father, he's right. There does still seem to be some brains left over in that head of his that, surprisingly, aren't consumed with thoughts of his pretty nurse girlfriend."

"Cut the jabs, Son, and let's go round up some weapons like he says."

Carth and Atton locked eyes for a long time after Dustil left, headed for the cargo hold. It was an uncomfortable moment, but there were things that needed to be said.

"Is there a reason why you're doing this?"

"Doing what?" the scoundrel said, looking wholly confused.

"Giving us hope when we know there isn't any."

"Getting all philosophical on me, Admiral?" Atton said, his mouth dimpling at the corners.

"Look, I'm all about raising your troops up and giving them moral support, but you and I both know our chances of boarding Eklipse's ship and defeating him are slim to none. We've got a crew of fourteen—what good can we possibly do against an army of hundreds?"

"Well, the way I see it, you're already accepting defeat without even having fought a single damn Sith."

"I'm being realistic," the admiral intoned. "Clearly you aren't."

"You forget, Admiral, that I was once one of them. I know their habits, their techniques. I've been immersed in that world long enough to know they have a margin of error, however slight. Everyone does. It just means we'll have to practice a little bit of precision. Every move must be calculated…every odd accounted for. If we can do that, then we can beat them at our own game."

"You speak from experience?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Atton's thoughts drifted briefly to the Jedi Skylaer and his comrades he had soon after deserted, though he had not done so before taking at least a few of them down. He had been so attuned to their style of fighting that it was easy to beat them—almost as easy as killing the thousands of Jedi whose lives he had gleefully claimed.

But that was long ago. Now he wasn't so sure his fighting was what it once was. His movements were sloppy, and he used a crude rifle and sometimes a sawed-off blaster to get the job done—so different from the elegant lightsaber he had wielded as a Sith.

---------------

Dustil was rummaging through the weapons cache in the cargo hold when Bao-Dur stormed in. The younger Onasi judged from the deconstructed electrical parts the Zabrak was holding in his hands that he had been working on something just before he arrived. He gave a small nod of acknowledgment and returned to what he was doing.

"Might I ask what you are doing?" the Zabrak said softly, the remote buzzing across the room to greet its master.

"Loading up our weapons for the big showdown." Dustil turned and looked over his shoulder at the clueless Zabrak. "What, you didn't get the memo? I guess it's not the first time you've been _left out of the loop_."

"If you are making a point, I suggest you get to it," Bao-Dur said with barely controlled anger. He was clearly doing all he could to keep his anger at bay, relying heavily upon the Force to soothe his desire to pummel the fist of his organic arm over and over again into the younger man's head.

"Only that Igrayne's with me now, so you should stay away from her, Alien."

Bao-Dur lost his calm composure, extending his arm to catch Dustil in a vise grip with the Force. He squeezed his hand tighter, feeling the power surge inside of him. He was sure he heard more than a few bones cracking as he did thus.

"Since you insist on making life difficult for me," he said in a calm voice that betrayed the rage he felt inside, "I will make life a little more unpleasant for you, too."

Bao-Dur continued to squeeze, feeling the life pulse inside of the younger man as though he actually had his hand clamped around his neck. It felt good to unleash all that he had been feeling for the past few months upon the man. His raw, bottled up emotion had constantly been threatening to spill over, and now he was allowing himself to indulge in what he considered a well-deserved sendoff into the afterlife.

He would have done just that had Igrayne not walked in, looking very frail. She paused at the door, horrified by the scene playing out before her.

"Bao, no!"

His fingers unfurled, and his hand contracted. He lost his grip on the man's neck, and Dustil slumped to the ground, choking and gasping for air. Igrayne immediately went to kneel beside him, but Bao-Dur noticed her movements were slow and weary, not as nimble as they once had been. She looked tired, and there were red rings highlighting the deep hollows underneath her eyes. Had she been crying?

"I don't understand you," she cried, looking straight at the Zabrak without any remorse for her actions. "Why would you do this to him?"

The Zabrak looked offended, but he did not dignify her with a response. Igrayne hooked her arm around Dustil's shoulders and helped him to stand. Bao-Dur said nothing, only turned around and retreated into the metal corridors of the ship's carriage.

"You'd better hope I don't take a swing at you, because if I do, I won't stop until you're a bloody mess!" Dustil screamed after him, his hand still clasping his throat. He coughed up blood a little, and when he next smiled at Igrayne, she noticed one of his teeth was chipped slightly from his head having hit the ground during the fall. Despite this, he was still very handsome and virile.

"Are you all right?" Igrayne asked, brushing his hair off his face.

"Yes, and you?"

"Dustil, I'm so scared," she said.

"You're shivering. Here, come closer. Let me warm you up." His arms drew her closer, and she suffered the embrace for some time before finally pulling away.

"Don't make me board with the others. I can't. I don't feel well enough to fight. I'm too weak. And Mical said—"

"What did Mical say?"

"…That I'm weak and I should rest instead of exerting myself too much."

Dustil kissed her head quickly, handing her one of the guns he had unloaded from the cache.

"Here. You take this."

"What for?"

"You're coming with us. Unless you hide in the hidden cargo sections under the ship's deck-plates, there's not much else you can do."

"Then I'll hide!"

"No. Too risky. I'd prefer to keep you near so I can be sure you're safe."

"You don't have to do this, you know," Igrayne said with bitter disappointment in her voice.

"Do what?"

"Pretend that you give a damn about me. I've known all along that you're just using me to make your father angry."

Dustil laughed slightly as he looked at her. "Well, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but you're wrong. Igrayne, I have no time to stand here and profess my love for you in long, rambling verse. I figured you knew my feelings by now."

"I guess not."

"Well, you'll just have to stick around to find out. Do me a favor and stay alive."

"I'll try my best," Igrayne said, allowing him to kiss her once more. The chaos of her circumstances was threatening to overwhelm her, and she thought she would be sick. What she really needed right now was to point a blaster to her own head and pull the trigger.

-------------

After parting from Igrayne, Dustil entered the main hold with the excess of weapons. Most of them were crude guns designed with little regard for the wielder. All the same, they would be enough to waste the Sith with their lightsabers if used properly. Dustil put the weapons on the center table, allowing everyone to come forward and select their weapon of choice. Carth was first, selecting a heavy repeating carbine, and then next was Rani, who had tied her hair back in a thick golden-brown plait. She chose a smaller, more precise blaster gun that seemed to fit with her small but curvaceous frame. Tren, who nobody seemed to be talking to, chose a large rifle, smartly remarking, "Well, they _do_ say bigger is better…" Then the others came up and selected weapons until they were nearly all gone.

"Look, I'm not saying we might lose a few of us against Eklipse's minions," Carth began, feeling the need to deliver a morale-boosting speech right before they were deployed into the thick of battle. "But the object of the game is to waste as many of those bastards as we can before whatever happens happens. I'm placing my trust in all of you. You're good soldiers. We wouldn't have made it this far without you if you weren't. Look sharp, and give 'em hell!"

Carth's last words set off a ticking time bomb in Carina, who had been merely watching the scene placidly until now. The urge to seek and destroy her enemies overtook her, and her hands were shaking by her sides as though she couldn't control her excitement. Her entire body was too small to contain the feeling; it spread out to her fingertips and toes, and for once she was actually afraid she might implode from inside.

"Patience, Padawan," a familiar voice droned in her head. She recognized the deeply resonant tone as being that of Kavar's, and she was immediately cheered by his presence in her thoughts.

"But Master, I am eager to put the things you have taught me to the test," she said intuitively, not daring to voice aloud the thoughts that now swam through her mind. "I must avenge your death. It was too soon. We still had much to do together…"

"Don't let your bloodlust control your thoughts, Carina. You must temper violence with peace, inequality with justice, anger with joy."

"I don't have time for your lectures! I am doing this for you. You were stolen from me, and now I will repay the favor…"

"No, you mustn't. Even now you can feel it in your bones, can't you? The desire to defeat your urge to kill is too strong for you to resist; you must obey it."

"Oh, sure. Obey it like a good little Padawan, right? Wrong. I won't blindly follow teachings that ultimately got my master killed. Not anymore. Those Sith will pay for what they have done."

"If you must direct your anger toward another, it should be toward Jene Cyrus and not the Sith."

"But why would I do that? For he truly opened my eyes to what violence really tasted like. And for a moment, I found peace in that fact."

"Carina," the specter of the Jedi master drawled disapprovingly, "if this is true, then you are no longer my pupil. You have rejected my teachings for one of your basest desires—to kill."

"Yeah, you sure would know a thing or two about base desires, wouldn't you, master?" she challenged him, giving it the necessary amount of seductiveness.

"You know that isn't what I mean, Carina. You have perverted the Jedi Code by accepting the teachings of a madman and using them against me."

"No, you mistake me, Kavar," she said, boldly using his name. "I am doing it for you."

"I will have no part of this. What you do profanes all that you are and all that you professed to be during your short time as my student. If you must do this, then you may, but you will do so without my further guidance."

Before she could say goodbye to the voice in her mind, he was gone. She felt his presence depart as surely as if he had been standing beside her. Now all there was to supplant the emptiness she felt was the hope of at least unleashing her anger on some of those Sith.

Mical, who was standing beside her, noticed the fact that something was out of place.

"Carina," he whispered, his lips tantalizing close to her ear, "are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I think I have," she said with a cryptic smile. Her hand rested on the hilt of her lightsaber.

------------

A loud thud signaled to the crew members that Eklipse's ship had locked transfer hatchways with theirs, and the sound of footsteps, which they could also feel shuddering down through the ship's chassis, told them they were about to be boarded.

Mithic looked very woozy, as Trinn was holding an arm out to support him. He was muttering some gibberish about Eklipse's now imminent appearance on the scene, but nobody seemed to be paying attention to him. They all looked terrified. Han even uncharacteristically slung an arm around Indy, bringing her closer to him even though he hoped secretly no one noticed. Indy reveled in the embrace, which was much too short in her opinion. He quickly unhanded her and drew his blaster out of its permanent home on his thigh.

"You ready for some action, kid?"

"You betcha. I've been waiting simply forever to test out my skills with a blaster," Indy declared. "Most of the time I'm just ducking bolts. It'll be interesting to see what happens when you're not on the receiving end of them."

Han smiled his crooked smile, exposing mismatched teeth that somehow seemed to enhance his already manly appearance.

"Just be careful. Don't get beaten up too badly."

"Han, are you being sensitive?" she asked with mock surprise.

"I, uh… No, I just worry that we might not have enough crew members to get back, that's all."

"Nice to know you care," she replied with a laugh, though secretly she wished he had just shut up and allowed her to enjoy the memory of their all too brief embrace.

Meanwhile, Evy and Rani stood together, talking in hushed tones amongst themselves.

"What's with Igrayne lately? I've never seen her so melancholy before," Rani observed, looking at the frail woman from across the room.

"I don't know. I'm worried for her."

"Me, too. I just hope she's strong enough to fight."

"I'm sure she will be. I've known Igrayne for what seems like forever, and she's one tough cookie. She'll get through this, like she always does."

"And you?" Rani inquired, slyly slipping in a glance at her diminutive friend.

"What about me?"

"Oh, come on, Evy. I see the way you and Atton are looking at each other."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play coy!" Rani's eyes briefly flashed a lighter shade of brown, almost a golden ochre the color of the mottled sands of Tatooine. Then they returned to their normal chestnut color.

"There is just so much that is unsaid between us," Evy said, chancing a gaze in Atton's direction. He quickly diverted his eyes, which meant he had been trying to avoid getting caught looking at her. That thought alone warmed Evy's spirits. _Good…_

"Well, why don't you two get over yourselves and make up? I mean, who even knows if we'll live through this? You don't want to leave this galaxy on a sour note, do you?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence in my fighting skills," Evy said with a giggle.

"Seriously, Evy. His eyes haven't left you once while we've been talking."

Evy looked over, and again Atton had diverted his eyes, though it was obvious what he was trying to do.

"Well, except when you look at him, of course!" Rani replied. "Just think, if I knew I was going to die tomorrow, I would want everything to be right between Carth and me. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened and it was not."

Evy nodded, but whatever response she was going to supply her friend with was abruptly cut off by the sound of blaster bolts ringing out against their boarding ramp, which was still sealed shut. After a few shots, smoke and metal fatigue were beginning to show on the formerly perfect door. A few more hits and they would break through the delicate barrier containing the crew members.

Evy's eyes captured Atton's from across the room. The moment, which went unseen by any of the other crew members, seemed to exist only for them. Without words, he communicated his thoughts perfectly to her. She could tell from the sadness in his eyes that he had tried to put on a brave face for the crew, but in reality, their chances of making it out alive were very slim. She knew this could very well be the end for both of them, and she knew he was thinking the same thing. Atton's eyes danced, as though tears were possibly welling up inside them, but Evy knew he was too strong to simply break down and cry. So instead, as his pupils expanded and contracted, repelling tears, he spoke to her his silent thoughts and deepest desires in a way that words could not.

_I love you_, she had wanted to say, but she didn't want to break the moment or the peace that had come upon her. Without even having to say this, she knew he understood it. He seemed to echo the sentiment—or at least his eyes did—those impish eyes which had first captivated her on Onderon, and had later taken in her naked form almost worshipfully as she stripped bare to his gaze and they made love.

Evy closed her eyes because the memories were too painful. She couldn't bear the invisible barrier that had formed between her and the scoundrel. He had been so much a part of her life and who she had become up until this point that it was difficult to imagine her life without him. And that was exactly what she didn't want to do.

With one last longing look at her lover, she tightened her grip on the blaster and prepared for battle. She could smell the deteriorating metal as it tickled her nostrils, pleading entry. She kept her eyes trained upon the door, which was about to give way at any moment.


	28. Sitting Ducks

Within moments, the weak plasteel door gave way with a large explosion. The crew aboard it moved back, instinctively shielding their eyes from the smoke that poured through almost instantaneously. All was deadly silent for an agonizing moment before the first soldier stepped through the noxious air, completely covered from head to toe in black, a weapon in his hands.

The first shot rang out, fired by Atton. The man collapsed to the floor, dead.

"First lesson," Atton said darkly. "Don't hesitate. Don't show any mercy, because they sure as hell aren't going to show you any."

His words proved true, as the dead man was soon followed by many more soldiers trying to force their way inside of the small vessel, determined to either kill or capture its occupants. Blaster bolts rang out, ricocheting off the walls of the ship, and many nearly singed some of the crew, but they valiantly held their position.

Igrayne kept behind Dustil, who was doing his best to keep her out of the way of stray blasterfire. Nearby, Bao-Dur had practically blocked everything out of his conscious being, focusing almost entirely on the battle, refusing to acknowledge the fact that the woman he loved was finding sanctuary in another man's strength. There would be time later to sort through the mess that was their relationship, and if they died, then it would be meaningless anyway.

Atton fired his gun repeatedly, barely pausing for it to charge up once more. Beside him, Evy was using her lightsaber to prevent any bolts from hitting their mark to the best of her abilities. She would frequently glance at Atton as if reassuring herself that he was still here, safe, with her. It worried her that there were still things left unsaid between them, but now was certainly not the time to bring it up.

The Sith soldiers were forced to enter through a small passageway, allowing the crew the chance to pick them off as they squeezed into the room. The crew stayed close to the walls and doorways, gaining as much protection from them as they could while firing shots continually, defeating their would-be murderers. At the moment, the crew had the advantage...but how long would it last?

As anxious as she was, Carina stayed in the back of the group along with Mical and Mithic. In this close of an environment, it was too risky for the Jedi to use their lightsabers as offensive weapons, and Carina knew as much. She could accidentally end up injuring one of her friends or be caught off guard by a stray blaster bolt. Neither possibility seemed very appealing to her.

Regardless, her hand itched at her lightsaber. The thought of finally exacting some well-deserved revenge was tantalizing to her. Somewhere in her conscious self, she knew she was only using the Sith soldiers as an outlet for her anger, but she didn't care. The frustration pent up within her was threatening to explode in an ill manner, and she'd rather the enemy be on the end of it than her friends. Surely that couldn't be a bad thing to want to protect her friends, right?

Though Carina would never be aware of it, Mithic had a similar train of thought at that moment. He could sense Eklipse. He was close. Far _too_ close, in Mithic's opinion. He knew there would be no true escape this time. Somewhere deep within the soldier turned Jedi, Mithic knew that this fight would be his final stand, for better or for worse. He would stop Eklipse...or he would die trying.

The Sith soldiers slowly began to succumb to the onslaught of blasterfire, and one by one, they decreased almost as quickly as they were entering the ship. This was a good sign for the crew, who took a moment to recharge their weapons.

Carina, however, could take no more. She hated the trapped feeling that being on the ship was giving her. They couldn't simply stay here forever; eventually, the Sith would overwhelm them and Carina would make her stand in the open, rather than being confined like a rat.

Without hesitation, her yellow blade sprang to life and she moved toward the door. Swinging her lightsaber in a small arc, she easily took the life of a young trooper rushing headlong into battle. Moving the lightsaber to the right, she thrust it into another incoming Sith, reaching out with her senses rather than her sight, which was clouded by the lingering smoke. Another swing of her blade and a man cried out in alarm before promptly falling over dead.

Soon she was outside of the ship, moving toward the lines of Sith soldiers in front of her. Contrary to all the teachings of the Jedi, Carina let her thirst for battle overtake her. Her vision became clouded by more than the smoke, turning a hazy red as she moved her lightsaber faster than she thought possible, slaughtering any Sith in her path. She wanted to kill, _needed_ to kill. Inwardly, she justified it by reminding herself that they were no better than animals...and she'd slaughter them like animals.

Given the new opportunity to escape, the crew of the ship followed Carina. The sound of igniting lightsabers mingled with the sound of their footsteps as they rushed down the transfer hatchway, desperate to reach the interior of Eklipse's ship.

Mical, having been the first to follow Carina, more out of instinct rather than loyalty, was surprised at the carnage she'd left behind. Such unadulterated violence from her simply convinced him that his decision to part with her was the correct one. She was self-destructing—and he wasn't about to go down with her.

Igrayne, too, knew that Carina was losing herself, but she also knew that this might just be what Carina needed to wake her up, to make her realize this wasn't the type of life she wanted. Even Carina, consumed as she was by her bloodlust at the moment, wasn't blind to the death that surrounded her. She would wake up, Igrayne hoped, or else she'd risk losing herself once again.

Igrayne's thoughts were interrupted as a rough hand gently tugged her along. She looked up, half expecting it to be Bao-Dur before realizing the hand belonged to Dustil. Of course it belonged to Dustil. Why wouldn't it? Dustil cared for her and Bao-Dur didn't. It was simple as that. Yet, at the same time, there was this lingering feeling that she'd made a dreadful mistake in choosing Dustil—a man seven years her junior—over Bao-Dur...but she stifled it. She had no time to fret about things beyond her control. She had to keep herself in the now or risk losing her future altogether.

"You doing all right?" Dustil queried as they rushed about the corridor.

"Yeah," Igrayne lied. In all truth, she didn't want to be here at all. She'd much rather go crawl into a ball somewhere and cry. The consequences of her actions were beginning to come back to haunt her and she didn't want to deal with them right now. That was to say nothing of the dull throbbing ache deep within her that threatened to paralyze her where she stood.

"Hold in there," he said.

"I'm trying."

Meanwhile, Tren, who was near the head of the pack, had decided to swap his blaster for his lightsaber. It had been a while since he had last activated the blade, but it felt natural in his hand. He only wished he had something to use it on.

"Ugh," he whined. "She's taking all the kills!"

Evy shot him a warning look as she hurried alongside Atton.

The group finally burst into the docking bay where Carina had stopped to wait for them. This, in and of itself, was an extraordinary feat considering the warm blood rushing through her veins and the insidious voice that clawed at her mind, screaming at her to run, to kill, to take away lives as Kavar's life had been taken from her. Her breathing was fast, irregular, as she greeted the crew.

"Took you long enough," she said, half-serious. "So, what's the plan?"

"Don't die," Tren said dryly.

She glared at him before looking at Carth. "Well?"

Carth thought for a moment. "As much as I hate to do this, we need to split into groups."

"Father, are you crazy?" Dustil interrupted. "That'll just allow them to pick us off easier..."

"Actually, splitting up is probably our best bet," Atton pointed out. "The Sith won't expect it; they expect us to lie down and die, probably. It's very difficult for them to change strategy mid-battle."

Carth nodded. "And we need someone to disable the tractor beam or we're never gonna get off of this damned ship."

"But we don't know where it is," Rani pointed out, wiping some sweaty hair out of her eyes.

"That's why we're splitting up," Carth explained. "One of our groups is bound to find it."

"How will the other group know that it's down, though?"

Carth pulled out two communicators. Atton smiled. "Someone came prepared," he mused.

Carth handed one to Atton and kept the other himself. "Atton's in charge of his group since he knows the most about how these Sith work. I'll be the leader of my own. We'll communicate via the comms."

"Okay," Carina said, getting to the point. "So who's in whose group?"

"Rani, Trinn, Mical, Han, and Indy will go with me. Tren, Evy, Bao-Dur, Igrayne, Dustil, Carina, and Mithic will go with Atton—"

"I'm sorry, Admiral," Mithic objected. "But I cannot go with you. There is...something I must do."

Carth frowned. "You're going after Eklipse." It was a statement, not a question.

"I must," was his simple reply. "I have no choice."

"It's too risky," Carth countered, shaking his head. "There's no way we'll be able to contact you if—"

"I know." His tone was stern, steady. Carth immediately understood. Mithic did not believe he would be coming back to the ship.

"Fine," Carth finally agreed, trying not to let his sudden outpouring of sympathy for the man override all logical thought.

"I'll go with him," Carina offered, sensing that she would be able to do the most damage in the presence of Eklipse.

"Carina, no," Rani said fearfully. She'd just gotten her friend back; she didn't want to lose her so soon.

But Carina had already made up her mind.

"Mithic'll need all the help he can get if he's even going to reach Eklipse." Her eyes subtly swept across Mical's severe countenance, but he quickly averted his eyes, trying to hide his concerned expression. "I am not afraid to die."

"Don't talk like that, Carina," Evy said with concern. "You don't have to do this. Let Mithic handle it."

The dark-haired woman shook her head, a few strands falling out of her ponytail to tickle the side of her face. "I'm going," she said in an adamant tone.

With those two words, Mical knew she meant what she said. She wasn't afraid to die, and she was going to meet her destiny head-on. She truly was an incredible woman, albeit a bit reckless. Mical was briefly and painfully reminded of why he'd fallen in love with her in the first place. She possessed a courage that he could only dream of, a power that he could simply flirt with, and a passion that was unparalleled. Could he really let her walk out of his life without a word?

He knew he could not.

"Carina."

"C'mon, Mithic, let's go," Carina said, ignoring Mical's pitifully small voice, heading down an adjacent corridor she knew would lead to the bridge. Mithic followed suit, shaking hands with Carth once and bidding everyone a fond farewell.

The rest of the crew divided into their individual groups, and Carina and Mithic both began to head a different way.

"Carina!" Mical called to her, his voice gaining strength as he moved to intercept her.

She turned around, her piercing emerald eyes meeting his azure ones, hands on her hips. "What?"

"I..." he swallowed the words he wanted to say, replacing them with, "Be careful."

"I'll do what I have to."

She turned to leave but he stopped her again. "Wait!"

"What?" There was haughty disdain in her voice; she was shutting him out. He couldn't really blame her. "If you want to say something, then say it. I've got a Sith lord to kill."

Mical furrowed his brows in thought. When he spoke, he sounded out of breath. "I mean it. There are people who care deeply about you, who would be very upset should you not return."

Carina found it difficult to swallow for a moment as she read between the lines of Mical's words. However, her logical mind won out over her hardened heart, and she realized this was a complete waste of time. Mical was speaking literally: Igrayne, Rani, Evy, and the others would probably be upset if she died, but their grief would pass. She couldn't dwell on that. And Mical? He was lost—forbidden—to her forever. She'd made that promise to herself. If not to protect her heart, then to protect his.

"Yeah, well," she said quickly, "Life's full of disappointments."

A pained expression flitted across Mical's face before it was replaced by a look of stoicism. "You should probably get going."

Carina nodded and turned, running off down a hallway with Mithic until she was out of view. Mical sighed, steeled his resolve, and then met up with his group.

He'd failed.

And now he had to deal with it.

------------------

Eklipse smiled to himself. The fools actually believed they were going to escape this alive. Of course, Eklipse would rather not kill them outright; he wanted to first see just what they were capable of before wiping them from the face of the galaxy. The so-called "heroes of the Republic" were laughable in their weakness. It was all very simple, really. They would come to him, like moths to a flame, and he would crush them in his fist.

Even now, he could sense the two Jedi nearing his destination, though one of the two was considerably darker than the other. _Perfect_, he thought to himself. The one would not be difficult to break if he got his hands on her, and the other? Well, Mithic would be of no further use to him once captured; he would never surrender to the dark side—that much Eklipse knew for certain.

"Luthan," he barked, and his second-in-command rushed to his side.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Have you deployed your troops?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And your apprentice? She does not idle, I hope."

"Of course not, my lord. She is on her way to intercept the admiral and his colleagues; it would appear that they have split into groups."

Eklipse thought for a moment. "Redirect her, Captain."

Luthan gaped. "What?"

"There are two Jedi headed this way now, and they must be stopped before they reach us," Eklipse explained. "Have your apprentice and her troops move toward their position."

"B-but, my lord," Luthan objected hesitantly. "Syrena is very gifted, but I don't think—"

"You fool!" Eklipse growled, tightening his hand, and with it, his hold around his captain's neck. "Your apprentice is meaningless to me! Of course she will not be able to stop them; she will, however, be able to test them. If she is worthy of serving me, she will defeat them. If not, then she will die."

"Y-yes, m-my lord," Luthan choked, grasping outward with his hands as if he could physically grab hold of the air he needed to fill his lungs.

Eklipse released the man. He gasped for breath. "And Captain, this is extremely important to me. Do _not_ fail."

Luthan nodded obediently before departing from the bridge, seething with controlled hatred for the Sith lord.

-----------------

"Why does it seem that everywhere we go, I'm always getting shot at?" Indy complained aloud as a blaster bolt whizzed past her ear.

"Maybe you make a good target," Han said with a wry grin as he returned fire, hitting his mark.

"Har-har," she said, unamused. "Very funny, Han."

"I thought so."

"Stay focused, people!" Carth advised as he fired off a few rounds himself, each blaster bolt embedding itself into a Sith soldier.

Rani, beside him, was holding her own as well. As much as she detested battle of any kind, Rani found that she was quite gifted with a blaster. Of course, her aim was not perfect—and she was nowhere near as skilled as Carth—but she was managing. She couldn't help but feel guilty for every life she took, however. Even if the Sith soldiers were labeled "evil," she couldn't help but wonder if, at one point, they had had a family, a life outside of their malignant occupation. It had been so for Carina before she turned to the dark side.

"Rani, watch out!" Carth shouted.

The woman felt the man hit her hard, and she was forced into the wall just as blasterfire sprayed past them both, aimed directly at where she'd been standing. She'd hesitated...and almost gotten killed for it.

"Are you okay?" Carth asked while Trinn, Han, and Indy provided cover fire and Mical kept the Sith behind them busy.

Rani nodded dumbly. She'd almost died just now; how was that supposed to make her feel?

Carth kissed her quickly. "That's my girl. Come on, beautiful, we have a battle to win."

With those words, Carth dragged Rani along down the hall they were traveling. They couldn't afford to stop right now. Like Atton had said, they could show no mercy or hesitation; they had to reach their destination even if it killed them. It was beginning to look like it just might.

Trinn, who had remained fairly quiet for the duration of their hellish battle, finally spoke up, out of breath. "Carth," she said. "I think we should rest...just a moment."

"We can't, we—"

"Carth," Trinn said, her usual sarcasm gone, replaced with solemnity, "I'm exhausted. So is Rani. At this pace, we're going to end up killing ourselves."

Carth glanced at Rani and noticed how pale she was looking. Upon closer inspection, he noticed she was almost shaking. He knew Trinn was right, but the thought of stopping felt like they were giving up. However, he also knew his companions were not soldiers like him; they weren't used to action like this, nor were they accustomed to the rigorous training he had endured as a soldier. He looked to Mical as if the doctor held the answer. The young blonde man was looking quite out of breath as well, if not a little pale. This could be attributed to more than just exhaustion, but he wasn't feeling bold enough to press the subject. Not now, anyway.

"All right," he reluctantly agreed. "Just for a moment."

Trinn, with a sigh of relief, leaned against the wall until she slid down into a sitting position, her feet and legs aching from the exertion. She was thankful for the break; she couldn't remember the last time she'd been in such an intense battle. Actually, yes, she could—_Malachor_—but she wished she couldn't.

Casually, she glanced at her other companions. Carth was with Rani nearby, inspecting her for injuries much to her chagrin, and Indy was with Han; both were bickering lightly with one another on all manners of subjects. Smiles never left either face even as they insulted one another. Trinn cracked a smile at that but then frowned when she noticed Mical standing idly by. She got to her feet, albeit a bit slowly, and walked over to him.

"So, what's up?" she asked amiably.

He looked at her as if she'd sprouted two heads. "Excuse me?"

"Look," Trinn said, changing her tactic quickly, "I'm no Jedi but even I can see how miserable you look. What happened? Something to do with your little Sith friend?"

"She's not a Sith," he snapped instinctively, adding more quietly, "Not anymore."

"Could've fooled me."

"Do you need something?" Mical's tone was dark.

"A Tarisian ale and a nice massage." Trinn grinned, but her smile wavered and then disappeared upon seeing Mical's incredulous look. "Okay, seriously, though, I'd rather like to get out of this alive...so I wanted to make sure you're mentally ready for this."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You really don't want me to answer that."

He frowned. "I will not let my personal feelings get in the way of what is important, if that is what you are insinuating."

"Good," Trinn remarked. "Just hold in there; these Sith won't know what hit 'em!"

While Trinn's words were mildly crude, she had succeeded in making Mical feel a little better. She had reminded him that he couldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of what mattered most here: surviving. But even if he and Carina survived, they had no future...so there was no point in bemoaning that fact.

"All right, people, let's move out," Carth called to them, helping Rani back onto her sore feet. "I have a feeling we're getting close."

"Fantastic," Han muttered. "He has a feeling."

"Hey, don't be a hypocrite, 'Mr. I Have a Bad Feeling About This,'" Indy retorted as they moved on.

-----------

Carina was unusually chatty as she and Mithic navigated the seemingly endless corridors of Eklipse's ship. The stoic man almost immediately regretted taking her along with him, knowing his brother could put her in serious jeopardy. He did not want to be the cause of any more of his friends' suffering—especially Carina. He had witnessed firsthand the woman's emotional turmoil, and his first instinct—as with most of his friends—was to protect her from harm.

He followed his sensibilities as he was drawn from one hall to another in pursuit of the bridge. He relied on the Force to direct his movements, as he sensed his brother's anger and growing frustration somewhere deep inside the belly of the ship. With every step, the emotion became more powerful and raw. It momentarily incapacitated Mithic; he found he could not take another step forward.

"Are you okay?" Carina asked, igniting her lightsaber with a quick flick of the switch.

"You should not be here. He will kill you."

"Hey, strength in numbers, right? And besides, what does it matter if I die? It's not like anybody actually cares."

Mithic frowned. He was not used to relating to his companions on a strictly personal level, and it seemed as though their escapades always landed them in a world of personal hurt. For that reason alone, he was alienated by them, though he was sure they had not done it intentionally.

"You're a good fighter. It would be unfortunate for your friends were you to fall in battle," he said diplomatically, still attempting to keep his emotions at bay. He was responding in the way he had been taught to respond by his superiors.

"I guess so. Hey, do you hear something?" Carina asked.

They both paused. All they could hear was the slow, steady hum of the ship's repulsorlifts.

"I could have sworn I heard footsteps."

"You are right. I feel a presence approaching," Mithic said, closing his eyes to try and gain further information about their pursuer. Carina watched the movement of his eyes beneath the closed lids as they flicked back and forth, grasping hold of the Force to improve his ability to see beyond the metal walls and casings of the ship.

"In here," Mithic said, shoving her into an adjacent corridor moments before ten shadowy figures approached. The woman appeared to be leading this group of soldiers. Her attire said it all: the sheathed lightsaber at her hip, the high-ranking set of Sith robes, and her unflinchingly cool, aloof eyes. She was one of Eklipse's Sith cronies. Her eyes cased the place as she looked around, reaching out with the Force to detect the two figures Luthan had spoken of.

Mithic immediately went to work trying to throw up a wall with the Force. For the moment, it worked. Syrena, reaching an impasse, signaled her soldiers to move out. The quiet group trotted off down another hall. It was then Mithic realized how tightly he was gripping Carina, trying to keep her behind him to prevent getting caught.

"Hurry. Before more of their friends show up," he said urgently.

The two continued down another corridor. Carina had perfected the light-of-step technique Kavar once showed her, treading quietly so as to avoid being detected. Mithic followed suit, albeit a bit more clumsily, and the two continued down the hall.

"I feel him near," he said at last, his eyes closed once again. "It's like there's this burning in my mind. I can't stop it!"

"You'll be all right. Let's just find Eklipse and destroy him."

Mithic slumped against the wall, his head in both hands, knees tucked beneath his chin in a fetal position. Carina bent over and tried to take a look at him. His condition wasn't looking too promising.

"Don't quit on me now, Mithic! You started this, and now you've got to finish it! If you don't confront Eklipse, then all we've been fighting for is moot."

"You think I don't realize that?" Mithic clutched his head as though in pain and let off a shrill scream. Rivulets of sweat trickled down his brow and began stinging his eyes. "Get…out…of my head!" he appeared to scream to no one in particular.

"Look at me," Carina said, taking his chin and forcing it directly up. "You can fight this. Eklipse is strong, but you're stronger. Even if you have to use every weapon at your disposal, I know you can beat him."

"I can't," Mithic managed to choke out.

"You can."

"No, you don't understand. His life—and my own—are inexorably bound. We were both created as brothers by Xim the Despot. While one lives, the other lives. And when one dies…"

"The other must die, too," Carina finished for him.

"So you see at last what I am dealing with."

"Yes, I understand now," she said quietly, trying to restrain her overwhelming sadness. It was difficult for her to believe this man would very soon be dead, but his fate—as theirs all were—was determined by the Force. Such was the way of things. There was very little he could do to fight against it. That fact had been all too apparent to Carina when she fell to the dark side.

"Well, whatever you must do, I'm with you to the end."

"It is good to know I have a friend like you with me then," he said, feeling cheered by the prospect.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go find him and kill him!"

"Help me rise."

She took the fragile man's hand and helped him to stand, sensing his mind was currently besieged by the Sith lord's powerful pull. It was affecting him physically—every step he took became slower, more pronounced, as though he was fighting against some unseen force and yet drawn to it all the same. When they finally came to the doors behind which lay the ship's bridge, Mithic turned to look at Carina. His mind was still under assault, but he was struggling hard against it. From the pained expression on his face, she surmised he wasn't all that successful.

"You ready?" she asked.

"Yes… Are you?"

"Always."

With that, the two stepped forward into the bridge to greet the dark figure who helmed the great vessel.

-------------

In yet another corridor of the massive ship that belonged to Eklipse, Atton and his group fought amidst a battalion of Sith minions. The small handful of companions formed a semi-circle to better face the onslaught , keeping the women closer to the center in order to further protect them from the relentless tirade of Sith soldiers. With lightsabers and blasters alike, they made a formidable crew, worthy of the most skilled of fighters…but each of them couldn't help but wonder if they would be formidable enough to survive the ensuing hours, and the waves of enemies that seemed to be crashing over them.

Atton fired a well-aimed blaster bolt at one of the encroaching Sith, hitting the man square in the chest and sending him immediately to the ground.

"Keep it up, guys!" he shouted to his friends over the dreadful noise of the battle, trying to bolster their spirits in an already desperate situation. "They seem to be letting up a bit; just hang in there a little longer!"

Bao-Dur and Dustil fought very near to each other, with the Zabrak wielding his luminous blue lightsaber and the former Sith handling a repeating blaster. They were perhaps too close for comfort, but such times required thoughts of rivalry to be put aside. Each of them seemed to be covering Igrayne, as she fought with her back to both of the men with her own glorious weapon in hand. Despite the fact that she was weakened in body and spirit, she managed to skillfully deflect several blaster bolts as they were shot in her direction. She was somewhat surprised by the ease at which she had jumped back into the familiar scene of battle, twisting, twirling, and thrusting with the ease of a trained veteran…

Evy, too, was still remarkably skilled with her elegant sapphire blade, which she had chosen in favor of the awkward blaster she had previously been attempting to control. In her mind, blasters felt much cruder than the graceful weapons of the Jedi, and her finesse and loyalty remained with her lightsaber despite its long absence from battle. Although the weapon's previous owner and Evy's first lover no longer haunted her thoughts or her dreams, Jeran's spirit lived on in the woman whom he had sacrificed everything for. Although it still pained her at times to make use of the deadly blade, Evy refused to let that spirit die.

On either side of Evy stood Tren and Atton, who had seemingly ignored their dispute for the time-being in order to focus on the task at hand. If they couldn't work together, then they would surely be doomed to die. Both men continuously fired an array of blaster bolts in all directions, desperately trying to hold off the horde before they closed in on them completely. Each of the six warriors fought fervently…for friendship, for life, and to give Mithic the opportunity he needed to confront Eklipse and bring an end to his reign of evil.

At long last, the final soldier of the assault dropped to the ground, and the group was allowed a much-needed breather. A few moments of silence passed in which everyone attempted to catch their breath, and Evy turned to look at her friends as her nursing instincts took over.

"Is everyone all right?" she breathed, as she disengaged her lightsaber. "Anybody injured?"

"We're all right, kitten," said Tren, and he immediately noticed the death-glare that Atton had thrown in his direction. "Er, I mean… Evy…"

Dustil checked over Igrayne, who was quite breathless, and he didn't bother shielding his blatant affection for her as he placed his hands upon her shoulders and looked sincerely into the eyes, blocking her from Bao-Dur's view. His eyes danced with concern, but his mouth twitched with a slightly devious grin.

"You okay, Igrayne? You're not hurt?"

"I'm fine," Igrayne said simply. She did not wish to consider the implications of her distressing situation at the moment. Her mind was too clouded to think straight…and she was already becoming exhausted. She would deal with her situation personally at a later time, if they weren't blown into oblivion first…it might not be the way that she initially planned, but she knew within her heart that she had to get a sense of closure before it was too late.

Dustil allowed his hands to run smoothly down Igrayne's arms in a gentle caress, and the gesture did not go unnoticed by Bao-Dur. Although his expression remained stoically indifferent, the Zabrak bristled slightly, and Igrayne felt a wave of disturbance emitting from him through their dying Force bond. He was undoubtedly affected.

Evy received nods from the rest of the crew, indicative that nobody had been wounded in the battle… and once again, Atton took charge with his trusty blaster in hand.

"All right, we need to get a move on, and fast. This place'll be crawling with Sith in a matter of minutes and we need to locate the Main Controls in order to deactivate the tractor beam so we can get out of this hell-hole. With any luck, one of our groups will disable it and somebody will survive this…"

His face was grim, but his eyes flashed to Evy's for a brief moment and a fleeting smile passed over his features. Unbeknownst to him, Evy's heart gave a little leap in her chest, swelling with a renewed sense of pride for his leadership abilities.

"C'mon, let's move out…if the layout of this ship is like any other Sith vessel I've boarded, we should be nearing one of the central control rooms…"

The group of companions followed Atton's lead, heading down the corridor towards the area in which he suspected the control room to be. They encountered a handful of Sith along the way, but the soldiers were easily dispatched, as most of them were stragglers manning the relatively empty area of the ship. They eventually came upon a bend in the hallway, in which a large set of steel doors were clearly visible around the corner, guarded by a group of Sith troopers. As he peered into the heavily guarded hallway, Atton motioned for everyone to stay behind him in order to avoid detection.

"That looks like one of the central control hubs," Atton whispered. "Just like I thought…"

"How do you suppose we'll get in there?" Evy asked as her fair brow creased in concern. "There are so many of them…"

"We'll need a distraction if we want to get past them," Atton said. "Either that, or we need to snipe them out as silently as possible. Whatever we do, it's definitely going to attract attention. I don't have any doubt about it."

"If it's anything like the last group we encountered," Tren added. "There'll be a whole new group of them waiting for us when they get wind of this attack… And quite frankly, I don't want to be around when that happens."

Atton nodded. "Right, we need to get in and out of there as quickly as possible…"

"And we'll likely need a security code," Igrayne noted. "I can see the console from here…"

Bao-Dur, who was previously silent up until this point, added his input as well.

"I can override it," he said quietly, in his usual harsh whisper. "I'm sure of it. This ship may be flashy, but that console looks to be at least a decade old… No problem."

Dustil was growing slightly impatient, as his fingers twitched anxiously on his blaster. Whether it was out of actual impatience or irritability attributed to hearing Bao-Dur's voice was unclear to them.

"So what are we doing? Standing around isn't going to get us anywhere. I say we just go for it."

Tren rolled his eyes at the man's impatience.

"Don't get your panties in a twist. Atton's thinking."

"Well _there's _a surprise…"

Atton was about to intervene when a blaster bolt flew within inches of his ear, and Evy shrieked. It was so close that he could feel the heat of the energy singe his hair slightly. Everybody ducked in the nick of time, falling back into a defensive stance once again.

"So much for the formalities…" Atton commented darkly. He stepped out of the corridor and let the blaster bolts fly. One of the men instantly dropped, and the other guards abandoned their posts to face them.

The rest of the crew followed suit, with lightsabers blazing and blasters firing rapidly. As soon as the first group was dispatched, a second wave appeared.

Igrayne and Evy covered for Bao-Dur as he made his way to the access console, deflecting blaster bolts and taking down Sith on their way. They stood on either side of him, making sure that he was unharmed as he attempted to override the computer. Minutes passed, and they were nearly overwhelmed; Sith were flooding in from every conceivable corner.

"Hey, Bao," Evy said through gritted teeth as she locked sabers with one of the Sith. "How's that override going?"

"It's more difficult than I thought," he stated with apparent frustration as his fingers moved a mile a minute. "I can't seem to gain access."

At that moment, Igrayne's eye caught a glint of something shiny upon the belt of one of the fallen soldiers.

"Cover for me," she told Evy briskly. "I think I just found our way in."

Evy nodded, standing her ground, and she watched with nervousness as Igrayne tore through the soldiers and made her way toward the dead Sith. As soon as she reached the corpse, she ducked low and saw the gleaming access cards hanging from the man's belt, just as she had suspected. As she struggled with the dead man's belt, she didn't see the rather imposing soldier closing in on her. The man raised his lightsaber high into the air as Igrayne grasped the keys, and she looked up just in time to see him bring his lightsaber down.

Igrayne covered her face with her hands, expecting a swift death, but the blow never fell… The man had dropped dead with a steaming wound in his back. She looked to her savior and saw Dustil a few feet away, and he gave her a swift nod and a smile before turning again to face several more Sith who had flooded the hallway. With the cards in hand, Igrayne rushed to Bao-Dur and quickly handed them over to him. He locked eyes with her for a millisecond, and a deep sense of sorrow flashed within their depths. It was enough to make Igrayne want to drop to the ground and cry…

With a lack of words, the Zabrak merely took the keys from and slid them into the console. Everybody watched as the metallic doors clanked open, and Atton called out more orders.

"Fall back into the control room! We need to get in there before more of them come!"

They did as he ordered, rushing into the control room while remaining vigilant. The women and Bao-Dur walked in first, taking out the handful of men that still remained inside the steel doors. It seemed that everyone else had already evacuated the area through other exits to join the battle that had previously ensued. The room was absolutely massive, with controls covering the entire perimeter. Buttons and levers of every shape and size seemed to be plastered all over everything. It was overwhelming to look at…

Atton, Tren, and Dustil remained near the entrance, taking out any men who tried to gain access to the room once again. They couldn't hold out for much longer, though, as another flock of soldiers was closing in on them. This was painfully apparent to Igrayne and Evy, who saw that the men were clearly struggling.

Bao-Dur was already looking over the panels, with seemingly no success. Since the men only had long-range weapons at the moment, he rushed to their aid with his lightsaber.

"They need my help," he told the women. "The controls for the doors should be on the main panel, in the center of the room. Good luck."

Evy's expression became grim as she and Igrayne rushed to the main set of controls. It seemed to be an entirely different language…and neither of them had any idea which buttons and levers to touch.

"Well this is just _wonderful_!" Evy exclaimed, her face flushed from stress. "This is Huttese to me!"

"Relax," said Igrayne, although she was nervous herself. "One of these has to be the controls for the doors!"

She risked a chance and pressed a large green knob, which immediately set off a loud, obnoxious alarm. Both of the women yelled in surprise, and Igrayne quickly pressed it again to make it stop.

"Somehow, I think that was the wrong one…"

Behind them, near the entrance, the men were still struggling.

"Evy," Atton shouted, risking a glance behind him for a split second. "You guys need to find a way to close the doors! Hurry! We can't keep this up for much longer! "

"Oh gosh, what do we do?!" Evy shouted. She was bordering on hysteria… she had never performed well under stress. "We can't very well press every one of these without expecting consequences!"

Igrayne shook her head grimly. "I don't know!"

An odd screeching noise sounded from behind them, and the women turned just in time to see the doors slowly closing. The men fell back into the room, letting a couple more bolts fly through the slit in the doorway.

Igrayne looked to Evy with surprise upon her features. "Did you do that?"

Evy shook her head. "No, did you?"

As the steel doors thudded to a close, Atton and the other men came to greet them, looking ready to collapse with relief.

"Nice work, sweets!" Atton exclaimed. "I knew you could do it!"

"Just in the nick of time, too," Tren said. "I thought we were toast!"

Evy smiled, looking between the two of them and Igrayne.

"Uh…thanks, boys, but we didn't do anything except set the alarms off…"

Bao-Dur's brow knotted as he made his way over to the panel. He located the control to open the doors and noticed that it had indeed been tampered with. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Both women nodded earnestly, and Bao's frown deepened. "Oh, this is not good…"

"What's wrong _now_?" Dustil asked irritably.

Bao-Dur activated the lever that should have opened the doors once again only to find that nothing happened. Everybody looked to him for an answer, fearing the worst, with concern etched into their features.

"Somebody has shut the doors from another console," Bao-Dur said. "Everything in here has been locked up. Unless somebody gets access to the other control center, we have no way of controlling anything from within this singular room. I might be able to perform an override, but it will be time-consuming… I'm afraid that time is a novelty we don't have."

Evy's large green eyes widened with fear. "So that means they can get in here, but we can't get out?!"

"Yeah" Atton said grimly. "And the Sith can keep gathering their forces while we rot in here like sitting ducks. We're trapped."


	29. Disabling the Tractor Beam

As Mithic was led off in the opposite direction by Eklipse's invisible grip, Carina's hand went to her belt where her lightsaber hung. It was cool in her sweaty palm, unnervingly so, and she fumbled a little as she tried to unhook it from the utility belt. Mithic approached the door to the bridge and hesitated a moment. He was waiting for Carina to join him, and she did. As the doors parted to allow them entry, the two were overcome with an intense wave of energy. At first, they remained unaffected. But the further they stepped into the room, the more their movements slowed down. Their progress was considerably retarded by the invisible wave the Sith sent across the room. As the two attempted to navigate the long passage to the bridge without success, they saw the dark cloaked figure standing at the helm of the ship. He surveyed them with disinterest, as though they were insects he could squash at any given moment.

Eklipse walked toward them without preamble, accompanied by a small battalion of dark Jedi that had materialized out of nowhere. Carina felt her knees buckle and give way to the paralyzing force around her legs. Mithic did the same, though he was howling as well. Carina could tell just by looking at him that Eklipse's torturous assault on his mind was really beginning to affect him. Robbed of breath, the soldier gasped in a vain attempt to fill his lungs with air. He choked a little more when the pain throbbing in his head finally subsided. Carina thought it amazing how Eklipse could manipulate such sensations within the man without even moving a finger.

"So, my brother, you have found me at last," the shadowy creature spoke from an empty-looking orifice in his face that Carina assumed was his mouth. He spoke with such force and persuasion that his rancid breath poured onto her face. She had to hold her breath to keep from retching.

"With considerable difficulty…" Mithic said, although he was hunched over on the ground, his words muffled in his soldier's cloak. Eklipse moved forward and kicked him once in his gut. The man recoiled in pain.

"Yes, you have made it difficult for me, brother, by flying to all corners of the galaxy and leading me on quite the wild goose chase. But I have you now, at last."

"Did you think I was going to lead you right to us?" Mithic spat vengefully, regaining his strength for a brief moment. Eklipse jabbed his chin into the air, releasing a wave of agony upon the frail man's body. Mithic again quivered, his body striking the ground.

"That's better. Bow to your master, you scum!" He sneered. "Xim was a fool to create such a pathetic weakling. You are a stain on his name. Your very existence cheapens what he accomplished in creating me."

"And what was that, exactly? Unleashing a tyrannical terror on the galaxy?"

"You may think you are being smug, but all you're really doing is making a fool of yourself in front of the lady."

Carina's hand still rested on her lightsaber, but she was shaking so badly with a mixture of excitement and trepidation that she was afraid to ignite it. Her fingers curled around the base of the lightsaber, and suddenly… she felt the weapon being tugged insistently from her grasp, her fingers uncurling in a mechanical motion. She spun her head about to see the same woman from a few short moments ago who had been patrolling the halls. Her small force of soldiers flanked her on either side, and they were all armed.

"I'll be taking this," the woman called Syrena said matter-of-factly. She held up the seized lightsaber to her master and waved it triumphantly. "See what this one was planning? Can I search the other?"

"Yes, I think it's best you did," the shadowy figure said, pacing away to allow Syrena enough space to conduct her search. Her hands frisked Mithic, searching strategic places where he might have stashed a weapon. Her search produced a crude blaster from inside a flap of his standard issue uniform, and she confiscated this with pleasure.

"Should be good now, Master."

The woman stood and walked, hips swaying sinuously, toward Eklipse. She stood to his left, hands firmly planted on her hips, as she found a foothold on the bridge. The Sith lord extended his palm to her, and she gave him the lightsaber. His thumb flicked over the activator button, and the blade sprung to life with a steady hum.

"What a beautiful saber," he said, waving it back and forth in a zigzag motion, marveling at the patterns the light made in the air. He handed the lightsaber back into Syrena's hand without even looking at her. "And now, she will kill you with it."

The woman wasted no time obeying orders. She stepped forward, clamping both hands around the base of the hilt. Carina rested both hands on her knees as she knelt down, feeling the energy which had paralyzed her begin to evaporate. Her movements were freer now, which meant she would have at least a fighting chance.

As Syrena brought the saber's blade cutting down through the air, Carina performed a showy backward somersault, avoiding the projected path of the weapon. As she rolled away, landing on one knee, her head bent gracefully, Syrena stared in shock. She was slightly slack-jawed at what she had just witnessed. Her momentary pause gave Carina the time needed to send a deft kick to her midsection. The audible "oomph" she emitted upon falling was accompanied by the sound of steel clashing upon steel. The lightsaber hit the deck of the bridge, searing a path through the metal, and Carina bent and scooped it up.

"I don't think so."

She used the Force to fuel her movements, cutting through the row of soldiers behind her in two quick motions. The lifeless bodies flopped ungracefully to the ground, and Carina flipped around instantly, setting Syrena in her sights. The woman embodied all the things she hated about the Sith: her arrogance, cruelty, and self-centeredness were disarming. Carina tried not to let it affect her, but instead continued in the offensive, advancing upon the woman.

An unbidden thought surfaced in her mind. The Sith were the reason Kavar was dead; they were the reason why Mical had become so disillusioned after years of war; and again, they were the reason she had been forced to turn against her family and "kill" them under orders from the Jedi Council. Had their repressive war never happened, she would still be in the medical academy with Mical, and Kavar would be alive. Instead, all she was left with was a vague memory of her Jedi master who, despite his appearance in her dreams, seemed to be growing more and more a shadowy thought relegated to the back of her mind.

Her hand clenched her lightsaber tighter. She felt unbridled rage boiling through every nerve ending in her body. It was so strong that it shook her tiny frame. As she moved toward Syrena to fight, mowing down the two dark Jedi who served as Eklipse's personal bodyguard, she was aware of only one thing: her need to fight, her urge to kill.

She was vaguely aware of a blurry form out of the corner of her vision. The blurry form soon took a more recognizable shape: it was Mithic, and he was moving to his feet to square off with Eklipse. With the Sith lord otherwise preoccupied, it gave her the freedom to take down as many of his minions as she could. So she began to do exactly that, abandoning Syrena for a moment to endure a short battle with two dark Jedi. The two masked men tried to invoke fear in her heart in a manner of ways—mostly by growling and making unattractive noises to catch her off her guard. Fortunately, Kavar had trained her well. She masterfully spun her single-bladed lightsaber back and forth, bent on destroying anything in her path. When the two minions finally succumbed to her attack, she set her sights on Syrena. The woman had fled to the center of the bridge. Carina furrowed her brow, her eyes narrowing to slits.

"Don't turn your back on me!" she cried. Her body could barely contain her rage. Through it all, however, she felt a calming presence resurrect itself in her mind. She knew it was Kavar's influence, but she tried to ignore it.

"Fight me," Carina taunted, walking lazy circles around the woman. Syrena unsheathed her own blade, which was a spectacular blood-red hue that hurt to even look at. Carina raised her lightsaber and began attempting to cut through the statuesque woman.

"Don't do this, Carina," a familiar masculine voice whispered in her mind. She felt her will almost dissolve at the sound of his voice. It was so disarming that she found herself wanting to obey it. Her mind fought against him, however, and in the end she won out.

She resumed advancing on Syrena, who had taken the opportunity to nab an extra lightsaber from one of her fallen henchmen. She spun both blades around expertly, welcoming Carina's attack. Carina was more than obliging, flinging herself headlong into the fight with a desire for blood. Withstanding the Sith's attack was difficult with only one lightsaber, however, so she stooped to pick up another as she sprinted across the bridge toward the fallen corpses.

"Running away?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Carina snapped, launching herself at the woman from halfway across the cavernous room. As she leapt gracefully through the air toward her, Syrena deflected the force of the jump with her lightsabers. Carina was sent backward through the air, breaking her fall on the cold steel of the deck. It wasn't the most graceful of landings, either: she smacked her head as she fell and split open a nasty-looking wound on her palm.

_Force, that hurts!_

She sat up, rubbing her head and applying pressure to the fresh wound, only to find the woman's two lightsabers crisscrossed at her neck. Carina moved carefully to her knees, using her open palms to falsely signify she wasn't going to try anything. Syrena lowered the lightsabers momentarily, and that was when Carina grabbed her discarded weapons and used them to run the woman completely through. Syrena's jaw gaped open as the white-hot energy tore her innards apart, and the blade quickly cauterized the wound. She tumbled forward, her body crumpling into a heap. Carina stood above her, using her dual blades to slice her head off easily. She reveled in the power such an action gave her.

She noticed out of the periphery of her vision that Eklipse was torturing Mithic by sending volts of electricity through his body. The man's body jerked in unnatural directions, manipulated by the energy coursing through it. Carina walked forward slightly, her hands gripping the twin sabers, but was prevented from intervening by the arrival of an entirely new squad of dark Jedi. As she turned hesitantly to go and greet the new threat, Mithic choked out in a barely audible tone of voice, "Go…now. This is my battle, not yours."

"Let me kill him; I want to help."

"No. Go. This is between my brother and me. You'll only get in the way, Carina."

She stiffened her lip, feeling partly guilty for not being able to be of much help to Mithic. But she understood the concept of his need to face Eklipse on his own terms. She backed away obligingly, her head nodding slightly as she said, "You are certain?"

"More certain than I've ever been in my life."

His words seemed to give him renewed strength, and he sprung to his feet and toward Eklipse, fighting back. He fought him in hand to hand combat, and for the first time he seemed to be holding his own against the Sith lord. He had finally achieved his purpose, and she felt the great rift in the Force caused by Eklipse's presence begin to mend. As the power of the light side tempered the dark side, an immense sense of calm rushed over her. It was fleeting but impactful.

It was with that happy thought that Carina rushed toward the amassing crowd of dark Jedi standing at the entrance to the bridge and began cutting her way through row after row of the black-clad figures, pouring all of her rage and hatred into every move. She felt an immense satisfaction in knowing that every last one of these Sith would pay for what they had done to her…and to Kavar.

She gripped her lightsaber and went forward to finish what she had started.

------------

Jene's hands worked the complicated dials of the ship's navicomputer, inputting the coordinates transmitted to him from the tracking device he had planted on Admiral Onasi's ship. He sat back and allowed the computer to do the rest of the work for him, temporarily abandoning his post to go and change into a more comfortable set of clothes that would offer him optimal movement around Eklipse's ship. As the ship was already on its course, Jene went to check on HK-47, who stood inert nearby. He had powered down the disagreeable droid for the short flight. HK had a habit of wanting to contradict his orders and seek out "fleshy meatbags" to annihilate. While Jene normally would have rewarded this behavior, the assassin droid was becoming a nuisance to handle. He assumed it was due to the previous owner's programming.

Jene stood up after activating the droid, watching its eye "sockets" light up and acknowledge him by looking in his direction. The droid made a curt but diplomatic greeting.

"Statement: Does my master desire me to liquidate an old debt with a competitor of his, perhaps? My circuits are abuzz with anticipation at what your next command might be."

"No, HK. We're going to that Sith lord's ship." He pointed out the sweeping panorama of the viewport, and the droid turned its head instantly, analyzing the image that fed through its sensory input.

"Query: Master, do my aural sensors deceive me? Or does this mean I will really have the chance to participate in unadulterated violence?"

"You'll get that chance, HK. As soon as we dock, your orders are to leave no one—_and nothing_—alive. You got that? Not a single thing."

"Concurrence: Oh, Master, I would be more than happy to blast them into oblivion for you. Death and destruction are my specialty; you could say they are my raison d'être."

"Good. Just don't fail me on this one."

"Protestation: But Master, when have I ever failed in my line of duty? Only a less sophisticated, cruder version of me would be content to let organic meatbags like yourself out of their targeting reticule."

"Watch it, HK. My patience wears thin." As he said this, he was already loading up his gun. He had half a mind to merely point it at the droid and blast it in order to shut the gabbing pile of junk up permanently, but he reminded himself that this droid was crucial to achieving the objective that had been foremost in his mind these many months.

"Retraction: Certainly, Master."

"And stop calling me master," Cyrus growled.

"Statement: I was under the assumption that organic meatba—I mean _sentients_—such as yourself enjoyed such forms of address."

"No. And I don't enjoy your ceaseless prattling, either."

"Apology: If it pleases you, Master, I shall mute my vocal units."

"See that you do."

Jene plopped down into the pilot's seat as the ship drew nearer the large star destroyer-class vessel looming nearby. It was then that he noticed the conspicuous access codes of another small ship approaching him from behind…

------------

"What you're doing is crazy. If he discovers us, we'll be blown out into space like the rest of the trash out there," Cody was saying to the woman over her shoulder. She had been on a mission ever since she noticed the assassin leaving Nar Shaddaa in pursuit of the heroes of the Republic, and she had altered their trajectory to match with his, hoping he wouldn't discover they were actually using him to locate their targets. Hopefully, if all went as planned, they would be rid of him as soon as they landed on the ship. Two versus one; the odds looked good.

Caine pried her eyes from the screen for the first time in what seemed like days, turning to glance over her shoulder at Cody. She was too happy with how everything had worked out to their advantage to actually be mad at him. All she could do was smile in a carefree manner.

"He won't be our problem anymore when we get to the ship. You make a hit on him from the turret, and I'll go locate the others. Then we can eliminate them one by one."

"I still say it's crazy," Cody said, leaning against the control panel. He held in his hand a cup with caffa, and he was sipping it lightly to stay awake. He moved over toward her, setting aside the cup to begin kneading the tense muscles of her shoulders.

"You're very anxious. Loosen up a bit," he said. She wagged her shoulders in response, trying to find a way to make the tension dispel. Cody's expert hands worked her shoulders, and she closed her eyes. His fingers had the magic touch; they were alternately soft and firm, working just the right spots where her muscles had clenched due to her stooped posture and to sitting in the same chair for more than twenty straight hours.

"Oh, that feels good."

"Why don't I make you a caffa? You look like you could use it," he said, studying her features carefully.

"No use. We're almost there. We've got to be at the top of the game when we arrive. A caffa will put me to sleep for sure."

"Suit yourself. Just thought I'd offer."

Cody finished massaging her shoulders and went to retrieve his cup. The hot drink produced a soothing result as it washed down his throat. He digested it with a satisfied grunt.

"So, what's the order of operations?"

"Like I said, you just deal with our friend, the madman, over there. Take the forward turret, and I'll focus on flying us toward their hangar bay. Seems like their tractor beam is in working order, so we should be good to go. After that, we'll go scout out the ship for their crew, and then we'll really have ourselves a party."

"You know, you do tend to get rather obsessive and fixate on things when they don't go according to plan," Cody observed, looking at her over the rim of his cup.

"I don't need to be analyzed, thanks." She said this while glaring, her red eye taking on a fiery hue. Sometimes it burned in her socket and she had to clutch it to stop the pain from traveling down through every nerve ending in her body.

"Just saying."

Caine smiled despite herself, and glanced back through the viewport. A small star looked to be gaining speed, flying straight toward them. But it was different from the other stars in that it was brighter and appeared to be moving at a faster pace.

"What's that?" she trilled, hardly aware of the frightened tone her voice had taken on.

The star moved through the vast nebula, propelled forward by a streak of light. As it came toward them and collided with one of the ship's wings, both Caine and Cody were thrown off their feet and onto the ground. The impact shuddered all the way down through the ship's chassis, into every bulkhead and storage component. The large rattling sound was accompanied by Caine's cursing.

"What the frack was that?" she growled.

"A little welcoming party from our friend," Cody exclaimed, using his brawny right arm to grab the bulkhead and pull himself up. He planted his feet on the ground, leaning over the navicomputer to draw up a directory of the ship's damage. He let out a vitriolic string of curses that would have been offensive to anyone other than Caine. But the woman merely blinked at him, trying to assess the damage from his facial expressions.

"Well?" she demanded. "Give me a readout. Make it quick."

Cody's dark eyes glazed over as he examined the diagnostic.

"Eighty percent damage to the ship's forward thrusters. Forty percent damage to the reactor core. Eleven percent damage to the hyperdrive," he said, scrolling through the lists of information. It didn't end there. Several of the ship's other systems that were needed to function were in less than stellar condition.

"Frack!" Caine cursed. "Well, I don't care how badly damaged it is. The ship is right over there; I'll be damned if we give up on trying to reach it now, when we're this close. Plus, we've got to teach that assassin a lesson, now don't we?"

"I guess. Caine, I would suggest waiting until I can at least work on those thrusters, make minor repairs. I don't want the engines to combust; then everything we're doing would be in vain. Wouldn't feel too good about that, would you?"

"I don't care. They must all die."

"Maybe you have too much wrapped up in this."

"Getting soft on me, Cody?" she challenged.

"No, just looking at it with a little reason. You should try that sometime."

"Insulting me won't change my mind about this. If anyone should understand my reasons, it should be you!"

"Fine. We'll push the engines to the max. But getting back won't be easy. Our fuel is already being depleted at twice the normal rate; the engines are working harder than they do normally because they've been ruptured. We might end up getting stuck out here."

"Wrong again. We'll steal the heroes' ship. This will allow us to get away free and clear. Problem solved."

"Whatever you say," he replied.

He hesitantly assumed control of the damaged ship, working to bring it in close to the vessel without alerting anybody—short of the assassin—to their presence.

-------------

The control room, despite its massive size, was constricting their movements considerably as Atton's group paced about, looking for some flaw in the design that would let them out of their temporary prison. When Bao-Dur again explained this was impossible, Atton emitted a frustrated scream that was almost as annoying as the sound the control room's buttons made when pushed. Igrayne cringed, bracing herself against the ear-splitting noise.

"Force, Atton! Care to warn us the next time you attempt to imitate the bleating of a wounded kath hound?"

"What do you mean, we're sitting ducks?" Evy interjected, repeating what Bao had earlier said.

"Have you tried contacting Republic?" Tren suggested.

"It's no use; the signal's jammed. There's no reception in here, no way of transmitting either into or out of this control room. Our only hope of a rescue lies on whoever's manning that other control center," Bao-Dur explained without consulting his commlink to further test this conjecture.

The others groaned. Without contact with the admiral, the group's progress would be completely stymied.

"Great, just great. _Noble heroes of the Republic go down in flames after attempting a brave rescue_. I can just see the headlines now," Atton said, ripping the commlink from his belt to fruitlessly attempt contact with Admiral Onasi's group. He sat down in one corner of the room and began plugging away uselessly at the transceiver.

"Can you still perform that override?" Evy asked. "It doesn't matter if it's time-consuming; it's the only chance we've got."

"I will see what I can do," Bao-Dur said, moving toward the large panel of controls. He glanced out over the various buttons and levers, assessing the schematics before he began working.

Igrayne paced to try and control her nervousness. The abdominal cramps she had been suffering ever since her meeting with Mical onboard their ship only seemed to be increasing with each passing moment. The anxiety was translating into severe discomfort, and the thought they might not make it off this ship was beginning to affect her.

Evy noticed the relentless circling Igrayne was doing in the middle of the room and went to her side to try and comfort her friend.

"Are you all right, Igrayne?"

"These walls…they feel like they're slowly closing in on us."

"Bao-Dur is doing all he can to break us out of here. He's competent; he'll have us out in no time, I'm sure."

"Then why can't I shake this feeling of dread? It's been with me ever since we boarded the ship," Igrayne said, as the trembling in her limbs increased. She had to sit down to keep herself from involuntarily toppling over, unbalanced by her deep fears and anxiety.

"I'm sure it's unfounded, Igrayne. Just relax and let Bao do his job."

"You're right," she said, feeling comforted by the other woman's words. "Yes, you're absolutely right."

A note of joy sounded from Atton as a nearby door slid listlessly open, revealing a hidden room that was an annex to the main control room they were now in. Bao-Dur stopped tinkering with the controls to take a look at the gaping aperture. It looked black and forbidding inside, but that didn't stop the Zabrak from plodding ahead into the room at full speed. His hand retrieved his lightsaber from the belt at his hip and ignited it to provide a source of light as he ventured further into the room. As the light from the blade cast upon the walls of the tiny room, Bao-Dur got a better view of his surroundings. It was a very narrow passage, just big enough for one person to stand up in—but not much taller—and, unlike the control room, this was outfitted with wires of every color instead of buttons. Bao-Dur immediately crouched down to the ground, surveying the tangled mess.

Atton poked his head through the narrow slit in the door, casting an ominous shadow over the crouched down Zabrak.

"If you don't mind, Atton, you're standing in my light."

"Right, sorry. Is it something you can fix?"

"Yes, these wires appear to connect with the main console, but they've been tampered with. Whether it's intentional or mere coincidence is difficult to tell. If I can just get them in working order again, we may have a better chance of escaping."

"Anything we can help with?"

"No, I've got it under control," the Zabrak said without looking at him, his hands too busy with the task at hand. Atton chuckled good-naturedly and turned back into the main control room to inform the others that Bao-Dur was hard at work on repairing the damaged system.

The Zabrak's hands worked with quick precision. First, he striped the wires of insulation at the ends. Then, after twisting the wires together, he strengthened the connection by soldering the wires using the heat from his lightsaber's humming blade. Once the wires had been connected adequately, he tested the connection with caution. As fate would have it, he striped the wires too far, leading them to react violently with their metal surroundings. The resulting short circuit caused the power to surge and flicker for a moment before totally extinguishing. The burning smell that followed denoted to him that the components were overheating. He disconnected the wires to prevent equipment damage, or worse, an overload.

"Who turned out the lights?" Trentyn quipped.

Bao-Dur quickly righted himself by inserting a small electromagnet in place of a circuit breaker to prevent another surge. He began separating and securing the wires again, this time establishing a nearly perfect connection that would facilitate the ease of moving electricity into and out of the control room. He hoped it would be enough to power open the doors or at least perform that override.

As he worked, Igrayne moved about in the main control room. The formerly fluorescent white light was now flickering badly, and she had difficulty adjusting her eyes to the constant change in lighting. She noticed Dustil approaching her out of the periphery of her vision, however, and she turned to greet him before he could surprise her.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've had better days," she said.

"Look, you can rest when we get back to the ship."

"Don't you mean _if_ we get back to the ship?"

"I like to think of it as a distinct possibility."

"But there's also a slight chance we might never make it out of here alive. What if we aren't on that ship when Carth, Rani, and the others decide to detonate it?"

"They'll wait for us," Dustil said confidently, though his confidence was slightly shaken by the question posed to him by Igrayne.

"Will they?"

"My father would never leave me here purposely."

"Do you think that Carth will hesitate for one minute before choosing between doing what's good for the galaxy and doing what's good for his heart? The admiral's tireless devotion to the Republic will always prevail. If need be, he'll fire his charges on this vessel and fly away knowing he just made the galaxy a better place."

Dustil absorbed her words with consternation. Igrayne could see his anger beginning to surface, and she remembered from formerly being his slave that anger didn't showcase an entirely pretty side of him. The joy left his face and his lips flattened into a thin, humorless line.

"You really think that?"

"Yes."

"Well, I suppose you do know my father much better than I ever will. Perhaps that's why it'll be so easy for him to blow me up if he has to."

"Dustil, I don't have the time to argue with you. I'm merely stating the facts."

"I understand." Although some of the bitterness still lingered in this voice, he said this in all honesty.

She moved toward the door of the small auxiliary passage in which Bao-Dur was working, but before she could, she was intercepted by Dustil. His hands dug into her shoulders, his nails finding a grip deep in her flesh. She yelped a little at the severity of his touch. He relaxed his grip a little bit, forgetting just how delicate she seemed to be right now.

"Where are you going?"

"I must speak with Bao-Dur."

"I'll go with you."

"No, I must go alone."

Dustil looked incredulous, so she added, "There are things that must be said between us, and I don't know if I'll ever get another chance."

His hands mechanically released her, although his slack-jawed mouth indicated to her that he looked ready to protest. She sidled out from under his grasp and walked toward the door through which a tiny slit of light was shining. One glance over her shoulder informed her that Tren had come to speak to Dustil, so he would be preoccupied for at least a little time.

Igrayne stepped into the narrow passage, the size of it pushing her involuntarily closer to the working Zabrak. Embarrassed with the forced proximity, she blushed but said nothing. Bao-Dur obviously heard noises behind him and turned to see their source. When he saw Igrayne standing there, the black silhouette of her curvaceous body outlined against the fragments of light spilling through into the room, he immediately averted his gaze and continued working.

"I have to speak with you," she said softly, venturing closer to him inside the room.

"Say what you like," he grunted, stopping to wipe a trickle of sweat from his nose with the back of his arm.

Igrayne wrung her hands with nervousness, the knot in her stomach beginning to deprive her of her courage. She had gone over this conversation so many times in her mind that she hardly believed it was now happening. What was she supposed to say after all that had happened? An apology would not lead to reparations between them—nor would it silence her critics.

"What are you working on?" she said, trying to make small talk. Her voice quivered, betraying her lack of courage.

Bao-Dur braced his hand on his knee, putting down the hydrospanner he had been working with. He was crouched over, his back to her, and he made no attempt to face her.

"What do you want, General?"

She hooked her hand in an object that protruded from the wall to prevent her knees from buckling. This gave her the extra strength she needed to address him when he was being so intentionally cold to her. Despite this, it felt good to have company—even though he wasn't human—next to her when facing the possibility they might not live to see the next day.

"There are things you need to know. Now that we have a moment alone, I feel as though I can finally speak to you."

Bao-Dur's hand gently laid aside the hydrospanner with such loving care that Igrayne was reminded of the similar manner in which he had taken her in his arms and loved her. She closed her eyes to stem the flow of tears, but it was inevitable now as they streamed down her face in slow progression.

"And what have you come to tell me at last—the reason why our Force bond is so weak?"

Igrayne could feel the heartbreak and intense sadness radiating off him from the remnants of their Force bond, but even this was growing difficult to grasp in their current circumstances. Just when she thought she was beginning to establish a connection with him once again, Bao-Dur threw up a wall to prevent her from probing further into his thoughts and emotions which, for once, seemed so jarringly human. How wrong she had been in assuming the fact he was alien made him any less of a man.

"I am partly to blame for what happened, yes," Igrayne agreed, "but then so are you. It takes two to make a bond, Bao, and to keep it strong as ever."

"I told you I would do whatever it took to repair our Force bond, yet you ignored me. I asked you once if it was because I was not human, and you replied that it was. What else was I to do, Igrayne?"

"I had a lot of things going on in my life. You can't possibly understand the mental anguish I was going through."

He said nothing, only stared at her in the dank light, memorizing the outline of her body. She moved toward him a little closer, only as much as the space would allow.

"Bao, I was pregnant."

Her words had no effect on him at first. She suspected he was still digesting the words, but without an iota of understanding. As what she said dawned on him, his expression changed from happy to frightened to pained. The change was so rapidly visible that she didn't need the Force to tell what he was feeling.

When he was about to respond to this, she lifted a hand to silence him.

"Please don't talk, or I might not get through this." She drew a deep breath, feeling her heart thundering irregularly in her own ears. "I wrestled with telling you for a long while, seeing the position I was in, until I came to the conclusion that our bond had been irreparably damaged, and at that point there was no turning back. The Jedi Council would have expelled me if they ever found out about my _condition_."

"So you decided to preserve your position as Jedi knight and prevent the experience of a painful and embarrassing discharge."

"You say it as though I am an evil person; I'm not. I'm just a girl who was faced with a bad decision."

"Yet you never thought of consulting me for my opinion?" His hand was trembling with suppressed rage. "Or did my opinion hold no weight because I am an alien?"

"I knew what you would say already."

The Zabrak's face glowed with barely controlled anger, and if she hadn't been intimately acquainted with him and his calm temperament, she would have thought he could strike her at that moment.

"Igrayne, you have proven where your loyalties lay…not with me, not with those you call your friends, not even with Dustil, but with the Jedi, with those who ask everything of you yet still want more. But let me ask—is their approval, their esteem, so much more meaningful than my own that you would actively seek to hurt me in order to appease them? I never thought you capable of such cruelty; I see now that I was very much mistaken."

What he was referencing was the human woman's capacity for a gamut of emotions and fluctuating moods he couldn't even begin to understand, all of which revolved around trickery, lies, and deceit. Such things were alien to him on Iridonia, where disputes were handled with honor and honesty, and always with the utmost respect for one another. Things were much more orderly back on Iridonia, but he had invited Igrayne into his life and trusted her with his heart, which was his shortcoming, and not hers.

Bitter tears were stinging her eyes now. She felt assaulted and confused by Bao-Dur's words. Though he spoke with considerable restraint, there was incredible weight to what he said. She knew she had wounded him deeply, and for that there was no apology that would be even half adequate.

She lowered her head to his chest, her hand pressed against him. He was cold and unresponsive, much the same way he had been the day they first met, before they had become lovers.

"Will you ever forgive me? I need to hear you say the words, if only for my own sanity. Going into this battle makes me realize we might not make it out alive, and I'd rather die knowing you accepted my apology and that we moved on from this point."

Bao-Dur said nothing, glancing through the slit of light in the wall as he saw Dustil peering in. His cold gaze told the man to back off, though, and he did just that, venturing back into the room to talk with Tren.

"It is not possible," he said softly. While around his human comrades in battle, he had often heard the phrase spoken: "time heals." But true forgiveness was elusive to him no matter how much compassion he tried to view the situation with.

"You don't really mean that, do you?"

His errant gaze and glazed over eyes told her he wasn't really listening to the words she was saying. She redirected his face with both her hands, forcing him to look deep into her eyes as she said, "Bao, listen to me. I love you. _I love you_."

She grasped his ungloved organic hand and placed it on her stomach, as she had thought of doing many times before, but the fact that it was now barren and devoid of life only seemed to add insult to injury. The Zabrak angrily retrieved his hand, balling it into a fist before turning around to finish his work.

"I have repairs to make."

"No, don't you do that. Don't you turn away from me."

He fiddled with his hydrospanner, trying to fix the tangled mess of wires he had been tampering with all along without much success.

"I'm not proud of what I did, but it had to be done. Don't you understand?" she said desperately. "There was no other way. I couldn't keep it. I can't be strong anymore, Bao. I need you."

"I believe you now have Dustil for that, so I suggest you utilize him as you did me."

She stood trembling in the doorway, overcome by tears. When the sobbing woman wandered back into the main control room, Evy immediately took her aside and sat her down, dabbing at her tears before casting a harsh glance at Dustil.

"Watch her, please, would you?"

"Of course," Dustil said, rushing to her side to crouch down beside her.

"That's what you're here for," she added under her breath, so he could not hear.

As Dustil was comforting her friend, Evy scoured the room for objects they could use as weapons in the event their attackers returned and decided to converge upon them once the doors were forced open. She chanced a glance at the control panel, where the intimidating-looking buttons and levers sat. She decided to push one just to see what it would do.

Absolutely nothing.

Evy let off a vitriolic string of curses and continued trying to read the letters in Basic that denoted what each button's function was. Atton and Tren stood nearby, doing their best job of pretending to ignore each other. Although it wasn't quite working, the tension proved quite comical in the otherwise somber room.

"So, that brain tumor of yours heal yet?" Tren inquired.

"What? What brain tumor are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know, the one that keeps deluding you into thinking Evy and I are an item and that we're not actually best friends."

"Who says we're best friends?" Atton replied flippantly.

"Apparently not you. Come on, bro, try and think about the good times… Don't make me sing the Bastila song again."

Atton chuckled slightly at that comment, though he immediately stopped laughing when Tren looked amused.

"That's my boy. Smiling's nice for a change, and I much prefer it to that perpetual dark brooding thing you always do with your face. Dude, what is that about?"

"Hey, don't complain about it. It works on the ladies almost every time."

"Really? I'll have to put the signature Rand facial expression on next time I'm trying to hit on fracking Alema!" Tren said. "That is if she doesn't sell my sister out on holovision again."

"Not a chance of that happening twice," Atton commented, both arms crossed over his chest. "Not a chance of our names ever being cleared, either."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Both men were silent for a moment, goofily grinning as though enjoying themselves.

"But say we do make it out alive. What then?"

"I don't know. What?" Atton responded with a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders.

"Dude, we've got to seriously upgrade our digs to a nicer sector of town. That whole Telos safehouse? Nice, but not exactly visually appealing."

"I thought the whole point of our operation was to remain under the radar."

"Yeah, but you've gotta do it with a little class, man. When we get back to Telos, I'll show you what I'm talking about. We can revamp our whole system."

"Even if our names are cleared, it's unlikely any Sith are gonna want to deal with us after this. You know, blowing up a Sith lord's ship and all…"

"Don't let's get ahead of ourselves," Tren reminded him.

"Yeah, whatever," Atton replied with a laugh.

Evy rolled her eyes at the exchange that had taken place nearby. She was still attempting to translate the knobs that were in Basic, but the print was so stylized that it was difficult to do. When she believed she had the right button, she let the weight of her finger fall down upon it. A smaller compartment slid up, revealing a cache of storage items. Evy's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Force, what's this?" she said, moving through the narrow crawlspace into the storage component. All around her, she saw first aid and medical items that could prove useful in their ensuing fights with the rest of the Sith—if they ever got out of this room, that was.

"Find something?" Atton's voice spoke from the opposite end of the room. Evy blushed, feeling slightly shy around him. She answered in the affirmative.

"Yeah, medical supplies…lots of them."

"Great! Gather as much as you can."

"All right."

She reached for the items one after the other, slipping them into the empty compartments on her utility belt for easy transportation. The extra weight didn't slow her down much, but it did make maneuvering about in an agile manner slightly more difficult. As Evy crept out of the crawlspace, retrieving the last of the medical supplies, she heard a strange whistling sound seemingly coming from nowhere. She gazed upward into the compartment, thinking for a moment that someone or something was inside it. But this conjecture soon proved false. She again searched the compartment for the source of the noise, when her eyes landed upon a small four-by-four vent in the upper right corner of the storage compartment, through which a generous amount of air was blowing. The vent had a grate that looked like it could be easily removed, but other than that there were no obstructions preventing them all from climbing through.

Evy gasped. "Atton, come look at this. I think I just found our way out! Come look at this crawlspace."

"I'm fine with that, as long as it's not a garbage chute!"

She sent a weird glance in his direction.

"What? I've heard horror stories about those things."

"Just come over here, please."

The scoundrel was at her side in two measured strides, peering upward into the compartment to the spot where she pointed. He actually gave a cry of joy when he realized the vent would be big enough to transport them swiftly—if not safely—through the ship's passages without being detected by Sith.

Atton's hands clamped down on Evy's shoulders, and he slightly shook her, ruffling her long wavy blonde hair. "Boy, do I love you. I could kiss you right now!"

Unaware of his declaration of love, Atton continued cheering. Evy's face flushed beet red, and the scoundrel soon took note of this.

"I…uh…" He casually brushed a hand through his hair. "I guess I got a little carried away there."

Their eyes locked again, and in that moment Evy found herself feeling for him what she felt the first day she had met him. Loathing, even dislike perhaps, but also a strange fascination and attraction that had drawn her powerfully to him. His warm brown eyes swept over her face, studying her features in one of the rare silent moments they shared together. Evy blushed and averted her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'll…I'll go tell Bao, and maybe he can stop tinkering with those wires."

By the time Evy turned around, Bao-Dur was already at the control panel, punching in a bunch of figures to the computer there. He had finished fixing the wires and was now in the middle of performing an override, so Evy felt reluctant to disturb him. Still, she approached him with careful steps.

"Bao?"

His angry eyes told her that something important had happened moments before, when Igrayne had burst through the door practically in tears. She looked over to the woman who appeared to be sleeping now in Dustil's arms, though she was twitching restlessly. When she looked back to Bao-Dur, he had assumed a more calm, staid expression, which was much more characteristic of how the Zabrak usually acted.

"Bao, I found a vent that's just large enough for us all to crawl through. Do you think you can remove a grate?"

"Let me take a look," the Zabrak said, momentarily abandoning his post to go and take a look in the small compartment. He immediately began working on it with his mechanical arm, and in a manner of minutes he had the grate deconstructed. He stepped back, wiping the soot off his stained Jedi robes, which were already heavily lacquered with oil and grease from the other ship.

"I elect for Atton to lead the way," Tren said, coming over to the small circle of people standing near the vent entrance. "After all, he is our fearless leader."

"Agreed," Bao-Dur said silently, and Evy nodded her assent. When everyone seemed fine with this decision, Atton prepped to begin crawling through the vent, his one leg perched on a storage box he was now using as a foothold. Dustil woke Igrayne up and helped her to stand. As everyone was gaining their bearings, Evy approached Atton with tentative steps. Her almost silent gait gave her away instantly. He remembered her tip-toeing around their apartment often, desperate not to wake him in the hours after their lovemaking, when she had gone to get a drink for her sore throat. Those memories which had seemed so mundane back then were doubly precious now.

"Atton," Evy said quietly, keeping her voice low so as to avoid being heard by the others. "I think we need to talk."

Atton straightened his spine out, both hands on the blaster guns holstered to each of his thighs. "I was just going to say the same thing, sweets. I think you should head up the back. I trust you with a blaster more than I trust Tren."

"No, not about that…about us, you big oaf!"

Atton was quiet for a moment, and Evy knew the source of his anxiety.

"Don't worry, I'm not pressuring you into marriage anymore; when you are ready, I expect we'll have that discussion. And I respect your feelings on the matter. But I have to have you know—before we go out there—that whatever happens to us, my heart has and will always be yours."

A slight quirk of the mouth indicated to her that Atton was satisfied with this response. As if to further confirm this fact, his arm snuck around her waist, tightening as he pulled her close into the curve of his body. This close, she could feel the extreme warmth of his body transmitted through her own. Their fingers interlaced for a fleeting moment, transferring to each other both of their regrets, frustrations, and anxieties about the forthcoming battle. And in that moment, neither one needed to speak; they had communicated what words could not, that their love for one another had weathered many storms and was stronger than it had ever been. Their lips met briefly in a kiss that defied all the previous ones they had shared, and Evy felt her heart flood with the warmth that came from the knowledge that she was loved.

"You ready to do this?" she asked when they at last ended the lingering kiss.

"Just say the word."

One by one, they crept through the small crawlspace, hoisting each other up through the narrow passage. Atton entered first, followed by Bao, Tren, Igrayne, Dustil, and finally Evy.

But none of the heroes noticed the smell of melting metal as the main control room's door gave way to the onslaught of blasterfire. The invader briefly stepped into the room, surveying its surroundings with the use of its visual sensors. As the sensors landed upon the one lone foot straggling behind out of the passage, the delighted droid said excitedly, "Statement: Master, I've found some unidentified meatbags lurking in the ship's innards! May I blast them?"

A man's voice sounded over the commlink attached to the droid. The commlink had been outfitted with a nullifier to diminish the sound waves and prevent the heroes from intercepting his communiqués to the droid.

"Not yet, HK. I want you to have some fun with them first."

"Objection: But Master, when you gave me a special suicidal mission to destroy all life forms aboard this ship, I was basking in the glow of bloodlust!"

"Patience, HK. Patience."

---------

Being the leader of the second group, Carth finally was forced to come to terms with a horrible fact: he had no idea where they were, and worse, he didn't know where the system to shut off the tractor beam was. They had been going at a ruthless pace for what seemed like forever and, aside from the Sith troopers' resistance, had not come across anything remotely close to what they needed to find. This had begun to worry him, though he refused to voice his concerns, lest he damage the morale of his struggling group.

They finally came to the end of one corridor where it diverged into three separate directions. Carth hesitated, unsure as to whether to keep moving deeper into the bowels of the vessel or to simply wait for confirmation from the other group on whether they'd had any luck. Thus far, there had been no word from Atton's group and he was beginning to worry.

"What's wrong?" Rani panted. "Why are we stopping?"

Carth was silent for a moment before pointing down one of the corridors. "This way."

"Are you sure?" Han queried, noticing the uncertainty in Carth's voice.

"Yes," he lied.

"You don't look sure."

Carth repressed the urge to glare at him. They didn't need division in their group right now; they needed to focus on finding that tractor beam system, disabling it, and getting the hell out of this Sith vessel.

"I'll be honest with you all," Carth admitted. "I'm not sure where the system is."

"We knew that you didn't know from the beginning, Carth," Indy told him. "But _now_ you're worried about that? Why?"

"It's because he's lost," Han answered her question.

"Not lost," Carth snapped. "I'm just not sure where we are...exactly."

Han snorted. "So, in other words, lost. Great. Just great."

This time, Carth did glare at him. "I don't see you offering any better suggestions, Han."

"Yeah, because if I was, we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place!"

"No, you'd be running like a coward."

Han returned the glare now. "What are you saying, Onasi?"

"Stop it, both of you!" Trinn interrupted before the two men resorted to fisticuffs. "Shut it! I'm sure Carth's doing the best he can, and Han, he has a point. If you have any pearls of wisdom, please do share with the class."

Han remained broodingly silent.

"That's what I thought," Trinn concluded.

Carth wiped some beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. It was getting awfully hot in this ship, and he briefly wondered if Eklipse would consider boiling them alive if he, himself, could withstand such heat. The thought was dark and he immediately banned it.

"Well?" Rani asked, breaking Carth out of his worrisome thoughts. "Which way?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly, looking quite pitiable.

She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll come up with something." She offered him a smile. "I have faith in you."

He returned the smile, but it was weak. "I'll try not to let you down."

Trinn rolled her eyes at the shared moment between the admiral and Rani. "I hate to break up this little lovefest, but we can't stay here too long. Not unless you want to be sitting ducks when the Sith come back."

Carth nodded, steeling his resolve. "Okay, people, what are our options here?"

"Run," Han offered.

"Hide," Indy added.

"Fight."

"Die."

Indy and Han shared an amused look, but Carth didn't find their banter amusing in the least. He looked to Mical, who had remained silent thus far.

"Mical, do you think it's possible for you to...uh, _sense_ where the tractor beam system is?"

Mical looked uncomfortable with the suggestion. "Admiral, I have not been a Jedi for...quite some time. I am not sure if I will be of much use."

"So is that a no?"

"I can try, Admiral," he said, relenting. He felt as if he was letting everyone down if he did not try.

Carth smiled a little in relief. "Go ahead. We don't have many other options open to us."

Mical looked down the three adjacent corridors. He knelt to the floor in a position he had not assumed for a long time, closing his eyes to keep himself focused. He let go of all the emotions he'd been harboring over the past several months. He let go of the grief he'd felt when he'd learned Carina had died. He let go of the brief happiness he'd felt among learning that she was alive. He let go of the confusion at her relationship with Kavar and her loss of memory. He let go of everything he was afraid to lose...including Carina.

When his mind was finally clear, devoid of any thoughts or feelings, he tried to open himself up to the Force. For a few moments, nothing happened. Everything was silent, save for the labored breathing of his companions and his own measured breathing. Then, like a trickling stream, the Force began to return to him. It was a quiet thing, barely noticeable, and he had to stretch to tap into it, but once he had, he could sense the faint mechanical whirrings of several machines nearby. He could sense the hum as they went about their job. He could sense the darkness of the Sith soldiers as they moved about the ship.

Now, if he could only focus on the machines once more, feeling the oscillations of energy that they produced, perhaps he could locate the elusive tractor beam system...

_There._

He believed he'd found it, but it was still a good distance away and he wasn't certain that it was indeed what he was looking for. He tried to move his senses toward it, but they were stretched beyond their small capacity. His connection to the Force was weak at best, and scarred by the times in which he'd shunned and blocked it out.

The connection broke and his eyes snapped open.

He'd failed. It was simply another failure to add to the bunch of other ones.

"I am sorry, Admiral," Mical said, his voice weak and almost cracking. "I have failed."

"It's all right, Mical," Carth reassured him. "We'll just have to take a chance on one of the corridors and hope it's the right one."

"That's not a very comforting thought," Han commented. "Not with all these Sith around. One wrong turn and you could be walking into a legion of soldiers."

"We have no other choice."

"Now, I wouldn't say that," a familiar voice said almost whimsically, causing all the heads to turn.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal daughter returning," Han murmured under his breath, earning a rough nudge from Indy.

Carina strode in, her lightsaber hooked to the belt around her waist. Her clothes were ripped in several places and her head had a nasty bruise on it while her hand was wrapped in a makeshift bandage fashioned of cloth. She looked like she'd just taken on the entire Sith force and had had quite a difficult time of it, too.

"Carina!" Rani exclaimed, rushing toward her friend.

The brown-haired woman smiled faintly in greeting. "We need to find that generator and get out of here," she said.

"No shit, Sherlock," Trinn quipped.

Carina ignored her, looking to Carth. "I just came from that way"—she pointed to the hall she'd emerged from—"and there's no sign of a generator or system of any kind. I'm fairly sure the middle route leads back to the bridge, so that won't help either. Our best bet is to the left if you ask me."

Carth agreed, finally feeling as if they were on the right track at long last. "All right, that's the way we'll head, then."

The emerald-eyed woman nodded as they began to head off in that direction. Han and Indy kept close together while Carth lead the pack, Trinn close behind him. Rani had fallen back a little to match Carina's stride, and Mical brought up the rear of their traveling group.

"Where's Mithic?" Rani asked quietly.

"Doing what he has to," Carina answered just as quietly. Mithic had signed his death warrant—and hopefully Eklipse's as well—when he had elected to stay behind and fight his brother. Carina respected him for doing what had to be done to end all this, even if it included sacrificing himself.

Rani nodded in understanding. She, too, knew what needed to be done and realized that Mithic was brave enough to complete the task he'd given himself. It was, however, slightly unnerving that the fate of the very galaxy rested on the shoulders of a former Republic soldier turned Jedi.

"I'm glad you came back," Rani told her friend.

Carina was quiet for a moment before replying, "Me, too."

She stole a glance backward at Mical and was surprised when he didn't look away. She quickly broke it and looked straight ahead. She couldn't afford distractions right now; she had to focus on the task at hand and her friends' safety. They had to get off this ship alive. That was what was important, not her petty and trivial relationship issues.

"What happened to your hand?" Rani queried.

She smiled grimly. "Brush with death is all."

"That's not funny, Carina."

"Yes, it is."

"You're terrible," Rani said, though she couldn't repress the faint smile that Carina's nonchalant quips elicited from her.

"I think I found it!" Carth suddenly shouted as he accessed the door at the end of the corridor. Hope immediately seemed to swell within the group as they filed into the room.

Only a few Sith soldiers were inside, and they were quickly dispatched by Carth and his crew. Then, the room was thankfully left only to them. Han, Indy, and Trinn all stood by the door—which was the only way in and out—preparing to blast any intruder who entered uninvited.

Carth quickly looked over the controls for the generator and realized they were very similar to the old Republic ships he used to serve on. He briefly wondered if Eklipse had stolen the schematics from the Republic, and wouldn't put it past him.

"Do you think you can shut it down?" Rani asked, peering over Carth's shoulder.

"I think so," he answered as he began to lower each switch that controlled the generator. Slowly, the sound of the mechanisms controlling the generator grew quieter until they disappeared entirely and the tractor beam signified it had been disabled.

Carth released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"That should do it," he announced.

"Fantastic!" Han cried. "Now let's blow this popsicle stand!"


	30. The Battle's End

Eklipse's presence was like a shadow looming over his very thoughts, dominating his mind. Such anger and hatred burned within the shell of the man who Mithic had once considered a brother. This was no longer the case as, though they were bonded by blood, Eklipse was everything that Mithic despised. He was not naive enough to think of the galaxy in black and white, but in this case, Eklipse was pure evil and there was no way around that fact.

Mithic brought his forearms up just as Eklipse slammed into him in an attempt to knock him off balance. It worked, but only momentarily, enough time for Eklipse to send a Force wave into him. It knocked him back several feet into one of the many control consoles that aligned the room. Mithic landed with a rough crunch as the panels and buttons broke his fall. Alarms sounded, screeching in protest, but they were lost against the background noise of the galaxy. Mithic could hear nothing save for his own heartbeat and that of his opponent's.

Making a running dash toward Eklipse, Mithic could feel the resistance against his movements as if he were coated in a thick, heavy liquid. His enemy was trying to eclipse his movements through the Force, but Mithic was too determined, allowing the Force to wash over him instead of hindering him as had been Eklipse's desire. Within moments, he was toppling into his brother without mercy. Eklipse was taken aback for a moment but recovered quickly enough to defend himself from Mithic's attack.

Nearby, several of Eklipse's men—those who had not been present during Carina's bloody escape—stood, watching and waiting. Having served beneath Eklipse for so long, their minds had faded away into subservience; they now needed an order to accomplish anything. All they knew was their master's will, and nothing else.

Eklipse noticed his disciples standing idly by and growled, frustrated at their lack of assistance. His momentary distraction proved fatal enough to give Mithic the temporary upper hand as he threw his palm out, sending a powerful wave of energy in Eklipse's direction. The Sith lord was caught off guard and sent hurdling toward the massive viewport.

With nothing to slow him down, Eklipse met the glass with a sickening crack. It fractured in several places but held. The Sith lord fell to the ground but picked himself up as his brother approached warily. His face, hidden behind a mask, did not betray his intentions as he allowed his lesser half to believe he was wounded.

Mithic came in range and Eklipse stretched out his arm, clutching at nothing with his hand before raising it into the air. Mithic couldn't breathe as he was levitated into the air. Eklipse closed his fist and brought his arm back in a sharp, snapping movement. The violent cracking of bones could be heard along with several screams as Mithic's body contorted in mid-air before being dropped to the ground.

"Fool!" Eklipse hissed. "Did you really believe that you would be able to stop me?"

Instead of answering, Mithic struggled to pick himself up off the ground. He called on all the healing properties of the Force to mend his battered body and, to an extent, it worked. He had just gotten to his feet when his mind was assaulted by violent and gruesome images of all the atrocities that Eklipse had and would commit.

"You have been under a great misconception, _brother_," Eklipse said as he approached, his robes skirting the durasteel floor beneath him. "You seem to believe that the light is superior, that it cannot be defeated. But does not the day turn to night, does not the brightest light cast the darkest shadow? As long as there is good, there shall be evil...and nothing you or I do will ever change that."

Mithic said nothing as he fought against the terrible images inside of his head. He clutched his head, shaking it in a pathetic attempt to rid himself of the pictures. If he could just focus...

"You will die here," Eklipse continued. "You will die along with all your other pathetic friends, having accomplished nothing."

Mithic let out a feral scream, breaking the suffocating hold that Eklipse had on him. His eyes darted to the soldiers standing nearby and caught a glimpse of a lightsaber hanging from one of their belts. He reached out a hand, sending an invisible wave that knocked both soldiers down and summoned the lightsaber to his hand. There was a _crack-snap_ as the crimson blade sprang to life, illuminating Mithic's darkened features. Eklipse hesitated.

"You and I are not as different as you would like to think, Eklipse."

His steps echoed as he moved toward his defenseless opponent. He could feel Eklipse's vehement emotions gnawing at his thoughts, threatening to overpower him. The static feeling attacked his body but dispersed with a mere flick of Mithic's wrist. His powers were being fueled by the same anger that Eklipse possessed...and he knew he was losing himself.

"Very well," Eklipse said. "This battle will be decided by our skills with a blade."

He flung open his cape and it fell into a black pile at his feet, revealing two wicked-looking sabers hanging from his waist. He unclipped them both, holding one in each hand, and ignited them simultaneously. The hum of the lightsabers was haunting to Mithic, but he tried not to let Eklipse spook him further.

"Good," Mithic said, several beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his ashen face and lodging in his stubble. "I didn't like the idea of killing an unarmed opponent."

Eklipse's reply was a twirl of his lightsabers as he advanced on Mithic.

------------------

The warm, moist air circulating through the crawlspace from the ventilation system tickled Atton's nostrils as he led the way. He continued forward on his hands and knees, ignoring the barrage of noise feeding in through the various shafts.

"What's that?" Evy said after one particularly loud blaster bolt seemed to strike the wall outside.

"Nothing. Just keep going."

The group plodded along at a slow pace, but as soon as Atton glimpsed the light at the end of the tunnel, his heart began hammering inside of his chest and a smile supplanted the frown he had been wearing on his lips.

"Bingo. Another minute and we're outta here."

"Really? Darn. I was so enjoying the view," Dustil replied smarmily, his eyes focusing on Igrayne's buttocks as she crawled along behind Tren. Igrayne's head briefly snapped back and she lifted her hand as though to smack him, but his reflexes were too quick for her and he recoiled just in time to miss it.

"Can't say the same about my view," Tren quipped, his eyes dropping to the ground to avoid looking at the burly Zabrak in front of him.

"That's enough, you two," Atton said, lowering his voice a note to command the attention of his crew. It worked; they shut up immediately and began dropping out of the crawlspace one by one, into Atton's waiting arms. When the scoundrel lingered a little too long after grasping Tren around the shoulders, the man shook him off.

"Geez, bro. I don't think of you like that."

"Nice."

"Stop running your mouth and help me find a way out, Trentyn," Evy said to Tren.

"Someone wake up on the wrong side of their berth today?"

"Seriously, Tren, please try and make yourself useful for once."

As the grumbling man walked into the darkened room, Evy saw that Atton was gleaming from ear to ear, obviously amused by the moxie she was displaying. She relished his approval, secretly flattered by the attention he was now paying her. Even in the dim light, his winning smile and casually tousled hair struck a cord in her heart. She repressed the urge to merely demand him kiss her right then and there.

Playing it cool, she put both hands on her hips and said, "What are the chances of us finding an unlocked door in this part of the ship?"

"Slim."

"Uh, guys?" Tren's voice carried across the cavernous vaulted ceilings of the spare room, and there was an unmistakable note of disappointment in it. "I hate to break it to you, but this door's locked. And unless we somehow magically have the codes, there's no way we're getting out."

"What about the Zabrak?" Dustil said, grasping at straws. "Maybe he can…hack into it?"

"Yeah, like that hasn't been tried before! What do you think Bao was doing performing an _override_ in the control room?" Tren replied sarcastically. "Say, genius, why don't you get back to work helping us find a way out of here instead of playing the role of Captain Obvious?"

"You got something you want to say to me?" Dustil said, balling his hand into a fist. Igrayne could clearly see he meant business, so she positioned herself near him to the best of her advantage in case she needed to intervene.

"Didn't I just about say it all already?"

"Look, wise ass—"

Igrayne touched Dustil's forearm gently, so as not to surprise him. She applied a small amount of force to his arm, trying to get him to face her. Dustil turned mechanically, as though being manipulated by her touch. The expression he gave her, however, was anything but compliant.

"What?" he demanded.

"Dustil, fighting is pointless. We need to work together."

He let out an anguished sigh before realizing the truth of her words.

"You're right. I don't think sometimes."

"No, you don't."

The crew members continued their search, stumbling about in the darkness for some other entrance or exit that would facilitate their escape. The commlink at Atton's hip began beeping and glowing red, and the scoundrel could have jumped for joy at that moment.

"Looks like we're getting a signal," he announced. "We're back in business!"

His thumb skimmed the small button to receive the incoming transmission, and he spoke into the transceiver.

"Carth, is that you?"

The admiral's raspy voice sounded on the other end, though it was difficult to make out just what he was saying with all of the static. "Thank the Force, Atton. We've been unable to reach your party via comm for a while now."

"Yeah, we got ourselves in a bit of a fix. No time to explain now, really, but to make a long story short, our comm unit was being…_difficult_."

The admiral's unmistakable chuckle followed that statement. "Yes, we've not had much success with ours either. Listen, Atton, we were able to locate the tractor beam and shut it down, so all systems are go as far as we're concerned. We're back at the ship now, so proceed to the docking bay and I'll have Han meet you halfway."

Atton placed one hand on his stomach, adjusting his belt. "Well, there's where we have a problem, Admiral. You see, we're kind of in a lockdown."

"A lockdown?!"

"Yeah, but it's nothing to worry about…I think. I've gotten us out of worse scrapes than this."

"You seem awfully confident."

"With good reason, Admiral."

"I'm not convinced," the man said, and Atton could definitely picture Carth's lips pursuing together stuffily as he digested the news of their entrapment. "We're coming to get you."

"No, Carth, it's not worth it. It…"

The blinking light on the comm unit indicated to Atton it was powering down, their communication lost once again. He spewed a string of vitriolic curses as he tried to fruitlessly inflict harm upon the commlink, but it didn't help alleviate the frustration he was feeling.

"Damn it. Now we're really stuck. They're coming to get us, and they're going to leave the ship. This is a bad idea…"

"Carth knows what he's doing, Atton. You should trust him," Evy reminded him.

"Why is it every time someone says that, something bad almost always happens?"

Bao, meanwhile, walked toward the door to try and begin performing another override. He seemed to be having a moderate amount of success when, all of a sudden, the metallic echo of footsteps could be heard mounting the treads and entering the crawlspace.

"Someone's coming! Everybody scatter, weapons at the ready!" Atton whispered in a raspy voice. Evy drew near to him as he made a gesture for her to follow him into one of the corners of the rooms. He reloaded his weapons to prepare for battle. Evy's hands shook as she plucked her lightsaber from its prominent spot on her utility belt and held it at the ready. Atton was fiddling with his blaster's charge while Tren laid a couple of mines he had bought off a merchant on Telos. Then he snuck across the room to wait for the surprise visitors to wander through the trap he had planted and detonate the weapon's charge.

Igrayne and Dustil flattened themselves against the corner wall in preparation for the impending attack. Despite the somewhat distracting sound of her heart thundering away in her own ears, Igrayne couldn't help but notice the fact Bao-Dur had not yet taken cover. He was still plugging away figures into the computer near the door—not too far away from the crawlspace through which their adversaries would soon be approaching.

"Bao, this isn't a drill. Stop doing that and take cover!"

She felt stupid the minute the words left her mouth, realizing how concerned she sounded. She felt Dustil's hand tighten on her arm almost possessively, but she ignored it and repeated the plea to the unmoving Zabrak.

"Give me five more minutes," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes completely focused upon the stubborn communications console in front of him, his concentration unwavering, unbroken.

"Make it a quick five minutes," Dustil hissed, his arm inadvertently reaching across Igrayne to hold her back. She struggled with him, gripping hold of her lightsaber as she clenched her teeth.

"You need not protect me. I am a Jedi."

"Yeah, well, sometimes even Jedi need protecting."

"If this is some ego thing—"

"It's not!"

"If you can't handle that I'm the tank and you're not—"

"You've got it all wrong," Dustil said, snorting. "I'm just trying to protect you."

Just as Igrayne was about to reply, the crawlspace erupted in a volley of blasterfire and glowing orange and red lights. As the shots rang out around the room, everyone ducked to avoid being singed. As the firing continued for what seemed like several more minutes, Atton crawled along the ground, continuing to load the charge on his weapon. Evy's hand found his ankle, gripping him in fear.

"Don't!"

"Do you or don't you want to get out of here alive?" he yelled back at her over the cacophony of noise. With that, she released him, letting him wriggle his body along the floor to assume a closer position to the assailants. He then propped his body up against the wall once he had reached an accurate proximity and began firing to no avail. His blaster bolts ricocheted off the armor-clad being in the center of the room and sizzled into the metal of the walls, melting them just slightly. As the firing ceased, all of the crew members stared back at the robotic figure in the center of the room, who was now flanked on both sides by a Sith trooper. The figure proceeded, unhindered, through each and every mine Tren had set, sustaining very little damage (if any) with each of the small, concentrated blasts that followed. Now that the trap had been set off, the Sith troopers scampered further into the room without being harmed.

The droid's vocal receptors woke to fierce life as it surveyed the image of each crew member using its sensory input and made a decidedly harsh judgment.

"Observation: Six against three. It hardly seems fair for you organic meatbags!"

------------------------------

Luthan touched his head with delicate ease, careful not to upset his headache anymore than was necessary. The Force was stirring inside his head, and he heard her voice as clearly as if she had been standing beside him, her screams of pain telling him all he needed to know.

Syrena was dead.

In his vision, he had seen a woman clad in a set of comfortable robes battling with her on the bridge of the destroyer-class vessel. The glow from their lightsabers illuminated their bodies, and Luthan saw the adversary Syrena thought was very slight and slender, with the body and grace of a dancer. So he knew it was Syrena who fell when he watched the slightly more voluptuous of the two bodies spin out of control, struck down by a fateful blow that set every cell of his being on fire.

He didn't know why he cared so much. He was well aware that Eklipse had seemed to use the woman to manipulate him, and Luthan had even welcomed the prospect of her becoming apprenticed to him, viewing their relationship as an outlet for the many urges he often felt while alone, meditating in his chamber.

Luthan walked briskly, headed for the bridge, when he intercepted a pair of stragglers along the way. The man, dressed in heavy armor and carrying a heavy blaster rifle, looked like he had just finished a tour of duty on some war-torn, backwater planet. The woman was not much better. Her dark strands of hair fell in her eyes, obscuring her otherwise pretty features, and it was her red eye that captivated Luthan the most. He walked toward her, drawing his lightsaber.

"Look, Cody, how cute. He thinks he's going to cut us down with his laser sword," Caine sneered, her face drawn into a scowl.

"I'll take this scum; you search the corridors for the heroes."

Caine grunted a response before trotting off to look down the adjacent hallway.

Luthan ignited his lightsaber and began walking lazy circles around the helmeted soldier.

"By the looks of you, I'd say you're a Mandalorian reject," the Sith said. If he had been under the impression that the many needed any provocation, he was sorely mistaken.

"I've killed Mandos," Cody said with self-assurance. "And I'm going to kill you, too."

"I'd like to see you try," Luthan replied.

He fueled all his rage from the discovery of Syrena's death into his first strike, as he lunged forward at the man with lightsaber poised above his head. Cody let off a round of shots from his blaster, but the Sith deflected each and every one of them with ease, sending them back at the man. When the blasts planted themselves in Cody's armor, the soldier was momentarily stunned—but not for long. He assumed a different position and began shooting in rapid fire. The fight was hardly evenly matched; although Cody was getting better at dodging his own blaster bolts, too many of them were landing in his armor. Luthan looked down and could see a little of the man's skin exposed. He smiled.

"Give up yet?"

"A warrior doesn't give up," Cody growled. As he was struck by a wave of rage, he began running forward, letting the emotion overtake him. Luthan's reflexes were sharp, and he deftly evaded each and every one of the blaster bolts. It was then, when Cody had just recovered from the last round of blaster fire, that he had him at a disadvantage. Channeling the Force into his strength, Luthan leapt forward, his blade slicing the man's head off his shoulders in one clean cut.

As the dark head struck the ground and rolled away, landing at the feet of the woman who had just entered the room, Luthan smiled. The woman stared at the head in shock. Then she moved to her knees, open-mouthed. It took her only a few more moments to recover her senses. Her eyes narrowed and she reached for her gun, unloading it in one blindingly fast motion as she began projecting bolt after bolt at the Sith. She continued walking toward him, pelting him with the full fury of her weapon's charge, until she had him practically backed up at a corner, yet at a safe enough distance to avoid being struck by his lightsaber. All it took was one well-aimed shot, directed toward his heart. As his handwork shifted slightly to deflect the onslaught of weapon fire, she jerked her aim upward, letting her last bolt lodge in his heart. His hand unclasped the lightsaber, letting it fall to the ground, and he took a few agonizing steps forward before collapsing to the floor.

Caine walked forward and spit on the corpse, picking up his lightsaber and stuffing it in her belt. She punched him one final time in the head to be sure her vengeance had been suitably exacted. It still didn't feel like enough. As she turned toward the lifeless corpse of her comrade and lover, remembering how just moments ago he had offered her a caffa and a massage, she realized this. The feeling of his fingers kneading her shoulders was still so fresh in her mind. The taste of his kiss was intoxicating, and she could still imagine what it was like.

She mustered up enough courage to tread nearer to her comrade's fallen corpse, and as she knelt beside him, weeping gently for the first time in what seemed like years, her body began trembling. She hadn't felt this vulnerable in a long time. Ever since the night Cody had held her in his arms and threaded his hands through her hair. Her hand drifted across that hair now, which was matted with blood from an earlier scuffle, and she gripped a handful of it. Her hand quivered as realization of what had just taken place began to sink in.

Caine no longer tried to steady the shaking of her hand. She erupted in a high-pitched scream, letting it ring throughout the vast, hollow corridors of Eklipse's ship. She was too overwhelmed to deal with the reality that Cody's remains would need to be somehow transported to his homeworld and then cremated, instead of being set adrift in space. She just let the rage inside her build to a deafening crescendo.

She gripped Luthan's lightsaber and strode forth to seek out more blood.

------------------------

Their lightsabers clashed in a fantastic display of light as sparks rained down on both of them. Their strength was evenly matched as they pressed with all their might in an attempt to strike the other down. The heat that radiated off both blades was ignored along with the aches as their bodies protested at the rigorous fighting.

Eklipse used one hand to send a volley of Force energy toward Mithic, but Mithic met the blast of energy with his own, balancing the power. Soon, it became too much for both beings and sent them both flying in opposite directions. There was crunching of metal and bone as Mithic's body met a console on the farthest wall to the bridge. Eklipse fared no better as his own body, perverted by the dark side as it was, met another wall full of electronic equipment that exploded on contact, sending waves of electricity coursing through his body.

Mithic was quick to his feet as he charged his brother, lightsaber held high. Eklipse managed to block the attack at the last minute as he regained his own balance. All around them, sirens screamed in warning while buttons blinked red. The damage being done was not being restricted solely to the combatants but to the ship as well. It was only a matter of time before one two many consoles were destroyed or the wrong button was pushed.

"You delay the inevitable, fool," Eklipse said, his voice laced with hatred. "What can you possibly hope to gain from defeating me? The galaxy already hates you; they will see my destruction only as a means for you to gain more power."

"Perhaps," was all Mithic said in response.

-------------------

Atton's group observed the imposing HK-47 with dreadful recognition plastered upon their features. The droid that had once been loyal to Rani had apparently been turned over to a darker master to do their malicious bidding.

"Smug statement: this should be no problem at all. My master will be very pleased to see your pathetic, liquid-filled bodies reduced to a further state of pulp!"

"Not if we reduce you to a pile of scrap metal first!" Atton shouted, his anger clearly showing. He fired off a round of blaster bolts straight at the droid's receptors, but it was to no avail. The metallic being was well-protected and built to sustain far more firepower than a mere blaster.

"Mocking query: Is that all you have, meatbag? You will find that my arsenal is specifically equipped for the termination of life forms such as yourself. Aggressive exclamation: Die, organics!"

The threatening droid let loose a stream of blaster fire that had Atton ducking for cover, and he was forced to scramble back toward the rest of the group. The crew had taken cover behind a grouping of plasteel cylinders in the far corner of the room.

"Atton!" Evy said, grasping his shoulders as she tried to control her shaking hands. "It's no use. Our weapons are too weak for him…"

"I'm not giving up so easily, babe. I know there's a way to take him out. I'm going to move in and get a better angle on the droid. You and Tren can take on one of the Sith, and Igrayne and Dustil can take on the other. That sound okay?"

"Might be a little easier if the _Zabrak_ lent us a hand rather than fiddling with some impossible controls," Dustil remarked. Igrayne glared daggers at him and was about to reply with a scathing remark just as several more blaster bolts were fired in close proximity. The energy singed into the metallic walls only slightly above their heads, and one of the cylinders was nearly melted. Dustil took that as their cue to jump into the fray.

"Come on, Igrayne!"

With Igrayne kept possessively behind him, the man assaulted the first Sith trooper with his rifle as Igrayne's lightsaber sizzled to life. They immediately engaged in a deadly dance with the trooper as HK and the remaining Sith took pot shots at them.

As Atton prepared to jump into battle with them, he locked eyes with Evy.

"You gonna be okay, sweets?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Evy breathed, determined not to let her voice betray the fear building inside of her. One of her delicate hands sought his, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Tren, I want you to cover her with your life, okay? Stay behind her as backup."

Tren nodded, prepping his weapon for battle.

"Sure thing, man. Looks like I get the best view in the house!"

Atton's eyes narrowed at the other man as he tapped the barrel of his gun. "If one of my blaster bolts ricochets and hits you in the face, it's probably not an accident. Keep that in mind, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever you say, bro!"

As their friendly banter was drowned out by a ferocious blaze of blaster fire, the trio joined the battle. Atton scrambled along the wall, seeking a vantage point to safely fire at HK, and Evy sprung into action with her lightsaber dancing in the dim light of the room. A volley of blaster bolts were instantly fired in her direction, and she deflected them with relative ease. Tren positioned himself behind the woman's smaller frame with his weapon ready to protect her if need be.

Meanwhile, Dustil and Igrayne were faring well against the Sith trooper that they had engaged in combat. The man was weakened, and Igrayne was moving skillfully with her luminous weapon spinning and twirling as if she'd never left the battlefield. Dustil, however, kept moving in too closely for her liking, apparently trying to prevent her from getting too close and harming herself. It was noble, but as a capable Jedi, Igrayne was tiring of his overprotective nature.

"You don't have to keep covering for me, you know," she said, raising her voice over the horrendous noise. "In a normal situation, I'd be taking these guys out all on my own."

"Right," said Dustil, "Because you're the tank, right? Well, even tanks need backup fire sometimes. Shut up and deal with it."

As the trooper let his guard down, Igrayne slashed forward with her lightsaber, cutting his heavy artillery in half like a knife through butter. The weapon melted and fell out of his hands, and Dustil fired off a few shots that burned straight through the man's armor. Igrayne saw her opportunity and she moved in for the kill, swiping her lightsaber in an elegant, horizontal pattern that sliced the Trooper's head cleanly from his shoulders.

Dustil nodded his approval, regarding the body with a morbid half smile.

"Now that's what I call teamwork."

He looked to Igrayne and noticed that her gaze had once again strayed to Bao-Dur, who was still valiantly fiddling with the controls that would free them from their current prison. The large metallic doors of the room hadn't budged an inch.

"Igrayne, listen…you need to stop worrying about him. If he'd rather screw around with some damn control panel instead of—"

Dustil's words were suddenly cut off as he heard Atton shout a warning.

"Everybody, get down!"

Neither Igrayne nor Dustil had time to react as a violent explosion shook the room, nearly knocking them to the ground. Tren and Evy weren't so lucky; their retreating forms hit the floor with dizzying force as blinding white light illuminated everything.

Igrayne and Dustil both slammed into a nearby wall, and Dustil managed to wrap his arms around her to keep her steady. As the blast cleared, her eyes squinted to better adjust her vision, and she realized to her horror that the grenade was meant to blow the doors wide open. Bao-Dur had not been able to succeed in his task before the doors were blasted into oblivion. Her eyes remained glued to the spot in which Bao-Dur had been moments ago, but she could not see him…

Light flooded into the room, and a group of armor-clad silhouettes paraded toward them with blasters pointing threateningly. Utter chaos ensued, and in a matter of seconds, they were once again engaged in battle with countless Sith. Blaster bolts were flying everywhere. People were yelling, and there were so many Sith… She had lost sight of everyone except Dustil, who was still beside her.

As she activated her lightsaber and defended herself from several Sith troopers, her mind was clouded and unfocused. A sense of panic overwhelmed her. She felt claustrophobic, caged, enclosed…and she desperately wished she could see some trace of her friends among the endless wave of bodies. So lost was she in her thoughts that she didn't see the Sith wielding a vibroblade dangerously close to her. She twirled just in time to see Bao-Dur emerge from the crowd a couple of feet away, and she opened her mouth to express her relief and joy at seeing him unharmed.

A shriek was released instead as Bao-Dur shoved her out of harm's way, allowing the metallic edge of the vibroblade to penetrate straight through his chest.

--------------------

"Atton? Atton?! Damn it, we've lost contact!"

Carth fruitlessly pounded the buttons of his commlink, but to no avail. In utter frustration, he ran his fingers through his slick dark hair, feeling ready to throw the commlink across the room. Gathered in the cockpit, the rest of the crew members looked upon him worriedly.

"We have no way of knowing where they are now," he said darkly. "We'll never reach them in time."

Rani placed a comforting hand upon his back, rubbing up and down in an attempt to soothe his nerves.

"They'll be all right," said Rani. "They're strong; they'll be able to hold out until we find them."

"We can't lose hope in them now," Carina added, glancing from Rani to Carth. "Especially when they've never lost faith in us. We'll find them. I just know it."

The admiral nodded, smiling faintly. "You're right. I was wrong to lose hope so quickly, but either way, we need to move out now. Every moment counts."

"But what about the ship?!" Han exclaimed. "If somebody blows it up while we're gone…"

"Then it's a chance we have to be willing to take for the sake of our friends," Carth said quietly, finishing Han's sentence with his own poignant words. "If any of you want to seek refuge here while we search for them, then it's your choice. But I'm going."

"Me too," Rani said with a determined expression upon her face. "And don't you dare try to tell me otherwise."

She gave his chest a playful poke, issuing a slight smile from her lover.

"Where Rani goes, I go," Carina said devotedly. "Two people aren't enough to brave this ship again anyway."

Trinn stepped up, standing close to Carth and Rani. "I'm not gonna let you guys have all the fun. I don't know how I keep getting dragged into all of this, but I'm coming, too."

"Well, I guess that leaves Han, Indy, and Mical," Carina said, raising an eyebrow with the most emphasis on Mical's name. "You guys going to join us?"

"We're coming," Indy sighed. "Don't let Han fool you. He's just being a chicken shit."

Han shoved his elbow into her, but she merely smiled and smacked him away from her.

"What about you, Mical?"

Carina's green eyes seemed to bore into him, and Mical nodded, holding her gaze with his own cerulean eyes.

"I will come as well. I could not live with myself if something happened to them and I had done nothing to help."

"Great, that's everyone," Carth said as he held his blaster ready once again. "Let's regroup and head out!"

The crew filed one by one out of the ship once again, led by Carth, with their weapons in hand and their hearts set on finding their trapped comrades. They had hardly stepped out of the ship when Carth stopped dead in his tracks. Standing before them in the hallway and looking quite deranged was the familiar imposing figure of Mona Caine.

"So, if it isn't the illustrious admiral and his cantina-dwelling girlfriend…"

Caine drew her weapons fluidly and focused the two main members of the crew in the crosshairs.

"Looks like my luck is just about to change."

Rani gave the much taller woman as scornful a look as she could manage, her trepidation reducing her efforts to something less than fearsome. The look in Caine's eyes could only be described as murderous, but somehow the adjective didn't quite suffice. The dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes and mussed hair signaled to Rani that this was a woman on the edge, one who would stop at nothing to see her goals fulfilled. Just what those goals currently were, she didn't know.

It was then she looked around for the man Caine usually traveled with, the one known as Commander Cody. His absence meant only one thing—the look Caine now wore on her face was a product of his death. All the pieces suddenly clicked into place.

"Easy," Rani said, both palms upraised to try and calm the other woman down. The tactic didn't work; Caine only trained her blasters on her instead. Carth almost instantly leapt to her aid, using his well-muscled body to shield hers in case the woman let off a charge in her direction.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned.

Caine smiled and said nothing.

"There are seven people here who wouldn't bat an eyelash at gunning you down should you choose to proceed with that foolish stunt," the admiral said, continuing to hold her attention as he watched Trinn, Carina, Mical, Han, and Indy shift positions to flank her. His eyes followed the young doctor as he ushered Carina toward Caine's right side, her hand covering her lightsaber. Similarly, Han and Indy assumed their positions to her left, standing alert to the imminent danger. Trinn moved in between them, venturing far closer to her than any of the others dared.

"It almost makes me feel sorry about having to destroy you. Almost," Caine said. For a moment, she seemed conflicted, as though the knowledge of Cody's death was really beginning to affect her at the most basic of levels. Her hand alternately tightened and loosened the trigger of her blaster gun as her resolved steeled and weakened itself. That made her doubly dangerous in Carth's book. Her indecision and utter unpredictability was what might ultimately cost them a crew member.

It was a disgusting place to die. He would always remember that detail long after this moment, when in the future he was reflecting back upon the battles of his life. The ship's chassis was cold and unforgiving, in stark contrast to the vibrant green plains of Dantooine, where they had first met and defeated the Sith threat. Even then, when they had lost men to the fighting, the bodies had been committed to the earth and become one with the soil—and the Force—through cremation, the Republic's favored form of burial for its soldiers. But here, in the steel belly of Eklipse's palatial vessel, there was nothing natural about the corpses lying untended in the corridors, rigor mortis already beginning to set in as the battles waged on around them. Where would their great homecoming be? Who would be there to receive them in the end, other than the vast nebula of space?

Carth didn't like it one bit. He resolved never to let his crew members become compromised. Even when he had received Atton's transmission in the cockpit of their ship, he knew something needed to be done—that steps had to be taken in order to prevent them from succumbing to the overwhelming Sith threat. For a long time, running had seemed like the answer. But now was the time to stand and fight for what he truly believed in. Now was the time to put his foot down.

And he did just that.

Planting his foot firmly on the ground, Carth's hand strayed to his blaster. He could hear Rani screaming, "Carth, no!" but her voice faded in intensity the more determined he became. No sooner had his hand retrieved his blaster from the holster strapped to his thigh than Caine had set in sequence a series of motions that involved a piece of machinery mounted to her body.

It was then that Carth saw the thermal detonator strapped to her utility belt, which woke to life the minute the sequence had been entered. His eyes widened in surprise shortly before the blast shook the corridor, his lips just beginning to form the words, "Trinn, get out of there!" as he saw the blonde woman heroically inch toward Caine. The seconds in which the small silvery sphere erupted into a volley of flames seemed like hours; Carth took cover, using his body to shield Rani from much of the blast. There was no time to see if the others had done the same.

Carth thought the explosion would be small and contained, but it touched off a series of other blasts due to the surrounding air being rapidly displaced. Black smoke and ash filled his lungs, and he struggled to cover his mouth as he sucked in oxygen deeply. He felt Rani's trembling body beneath him and stretched his arms around her to assure her no harm would ever come to her while he was there.

As the flames dissolved, the blue-black colors licking the now exposed innards of the corridor around them, it wasn't difficult to see the damage to the hull was critical. Carth immediately jumped to his feet, more concerned with the wellbeing of his fiancée than the painful soreness settling in his limbs. He held her by the shoulders and gazed into her eyes.

"Rani, look at me…are you all right?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes, Carth. Check the others!"

He ran through the charred remains of the corridor, dodging exposed and malfunctioning circuitry and falling pieces of metal to kneel by Han and Indy. He laid a hand on each of their backs.

"Is everyone okay?"

The smugglers grunted their assent, clearly shaken by the blast, and Carth quickly turned to Mical and Carina to receive the same reply. But when he came to check on Trinn, he was sickened to find there weren't enough pieces of her to put together. All his years of training with the fleet hadn't prepared him for the sight he was met with, and Carth fought the urge to double over and vomit right there, for what would have been the first time in a long time. Instead, he put his head between the legs and took deep, soothing breaths to relax himself. He felt a soft hand on his back. It was Rani's.

"Carth, come away from here. You don't need to see this."

The tone of her voice told him she was clearly affected by it, but she was not reacting quite as violently to it as he had been.

"And what will I tell them, when they ask how she died?" he said.

"You'll say she died heroically. With honor. Like a true soldier." Her hand tightened on his forearm. "That's how she would have wanted to be remembered, Carth."

He nodded, closing his eyes tightly.

"You're right."

"Carth, there's no time," Rani's voice said somewhat penitently. She was right. There was no time to deal with everything that was happening right now. Trinn was dead, and their friends were still out there, possibly alive. They needed their help now, and in order to do that, Carth had to compose himself and assume the mantle of cool, collected admiral once again. He didn't want his troops to lose faith in his abilities.

"I know. The time to mourn is later." He stood straight up, turning around to face the others. "We need to find Atton and the others before it's too late."

"Any idea on where they might be?" Indy asked.

"I don't know," Carth admitted. "It sounded as though they were trapped somewhere."

"That about narrows it down," Indy replied with a caustic laugh.

"Tell me about it."

"The coordinates they were transmitting from seemed to be somewhere in the vicinity of the bridge."

Mical turned to Carina, his eyes gleaming brightly as he looked at her. "Carina, you know where that is. Why don't you lead?"

"Me lead?"

"Yes, if anyone can locate their whereabouts, I know it is you. The Force fuels your every motion."

"Not anymore it doesn't."

Han cut in immediately. "Then how about your incredible grasp of geography? Does that fuel your every motion, too?"

"I do know a little of the ship's layout, yes."

"Then please, lead away," Carth said. His pleading voice made Carina's resolve cave, and she nodded and took the lead, setting a brisk pace for the others to follow.

"All right. Follow me."

---------------------

The glass viewport seemed to crack a little beneath the force of Mithic's weight as he was pressed against it, Eklipse's hand at his throat. The Sith lord had managed to disarm him and now had him at a significant disadvantage. He kept Mithic precariously pressed against the viewport, unable to escape from his vicious clutches.

"See what your valiant sacrifice will earn you," Eklipse was saying as he forced Mithic to stare down upon Nar Shaddaa. "The galaxy is sick and dying...and there is nothing that you will be able to do to fix that."

Mithic choked as he tried to gasp for air with his face pressed against the window. "You...will be defeated. The Sith won't win this...war."

"War, you say? Foolish boy, the war has been over for quite some time now. I am simply picking up the shattered pieces of the galaxy." Eklipse grinned beneath his mask. "Consider it reconstruction."

Mithic couldn't breathe, and he felt his limbs going weak from the lack of oxygenated blood. Darkness crawled at the edges of his vision and he struggled even more desperately against his brother's hold. If he died here, then they all died. And if they died, the galaxy would pay the price. He could not give up, not yet.

He _would not_ give up.

Mithic moved into a position where he could grab Eklipse's wrist. It was a futile attempt to force the Sith lord to release him, but Mithic was out of ideas. Eklipse laughed at his pitiful attempt. It was a dark, sinister sound that resonated throughout the hollow bowels of the ship.

"I have waited for this day for a long time," Eklipse said. "I often hungered for your death...and now I will succeed."

"My death will mean nothing," Mithic said in between gasps for air. "You will be stopped."

"Even as the darkness falls around you, still you cling to your pathetic beliefs." A pause. "But it matters not. You die now."

Eklipse's hold tightened, and Mithic felt the last vestiges of consciousness slipping from him. It was a losing battle and he knew it.

In one last ditch effort to delay his fate, Mithic summoned as much of the Force as he could. It felt dead in such a place, but it was still there—faint, barely traceable. He closed his eyes, allowing it to swirl around him, enveloping him in its familiar power. The tendrils of the dark side melted from his mind, replaced by an overwhelming sense of peace and the knowledge of what had to be done.

His eyes snapped open immediately.

"It is...over," he said.

The arrogance that radiated off Eklipse was palpable, and he began to chuckle. "It is good that you realize that...it will make your passing that much quicker."

Just as he was about to finish his weaker half, however, Mithic did something he had not expected or anticipated. Eklipse felt the power of the Force as it came to Mithic, obedient to his brother's will, seconds before he realized what Mithic was going to do.

"What—" he began.

But it was too late.

With the last bits of his waning strength, Mithic unleashed the Force onto as many items in the room as he could, forcing them into the air. With a single thought, the items flew toward him and his brother. Eklipse cursed and released Mithic, moving out of the way of the deadly objects as they hurdled through the air. Eklipse narrowly escaped the trajectory of the items and then turned to face his brother, who it appeared had not been as fortunate. All the items crashed into the viewport, one particular panel impaling Mithic to the glass.

"Fool! You have failed!" Eklipse said, laughing maniacally at Mithic's failure. Mithic only smiled, a small trail of blood trickling from the corner of his lips.

The viewport began to form hairline cracks in all the places the items had crashed into. It had been made to sustain a great amount of damage, but with the battle between Eklipse and Mithic—combined with the force of all the items hitting it—it could no longer hold. The cracks began to shatter the glass, with pieces beginning to chip off. Soon, the cracks became great gashes in the viewport.

It was at that final moment, as Eklipse stared at Mithic in disbelief, that he knew that he'd lost.

And then the viewport gave way.

In a colossal crash, the glass viewport shattered into millions of tiny pieces and, along with Mithic and Eklipse, were sucked out into the large vacuum of space.

The bridge was silent then as all of Eklipse's minions and droids were similarly drawn out into space by the enormous force. The whistling alarms died in the vacuum, the electronic devices failed, and the control panels let out one final whine as the ship began to plummet towards Nar Shaddaa's corrosive atmosphere.

----------------------

Igrayne wasted no time dispatching with the Sith trooper, her lightsaber slicing easily through his midsection. As her opponent toppled and fell, she turned immediately to Bao-Dur, who lay at her feet, seemingly dizzy and disoriented from the wounds he had sustained. As Igrayne sunk to her knees, she lost the calm composure that usually came so easily to her when she had been a nurse. Her hands trembled and she could hardly breathe. She held her hand over her mouth and took short, swift breaths through her nose to stem the nausea in the pit of her stomach.

"Bao…"

Before the name left her throat, a pair of hands grasped her shoulders and thrust her unceremoniously out of the way. In the ensuing chaos, Evy had caught a glimpse of what was happening and ran over to assist her friend, clutching her kit of medical supplies near. Igrayne backed away, but only slightly. As Evy began examining the wound in haste, the noise from the laser blasts gradually lessened, and the smoke that had erupted throughout the corridors during the long, played-out blasterfire exchange was beginning to clear.

"That's about the last of them!" Atton cried as the last armor-clad silhouette fell to the ground with a metallic clang. His gun found its way into the holster strapped to his utility belt, and then Atton quickly made his way to where the others had gathered, ignoring the few scant nicks and bruises he had sustained from the violent exchange. Tren stood beside him, mute with shock.

The view of all the downed soldiers scattered about like limp playthings only served to heighten Igrayne's anxiety. She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder and knew who it was immediately.

"Igrayne."

Shrugging his shoulder off, she kept her eyes focused on her ailing lover as Evy began working on her patient. Dustil again tried to reason with her by grasping her shoulder and pulling her to her feet.

"Don't crowd her. Give her space."

Another jolt through the bowels of the ship indicated to them they had precious few minutes to spare before the whole vessel would plummet toward the atmosphere of the planet beneath them in a violent volley of fire. In that moment, Igrayne couldn't have cared less if they all succumbed to the unpleasant fate that surely awaited them. Her eyes were completely focused on her lover, who was busy fighting for his life.

The sight of his blood was nauseating. A makeshift tourniquet—fashioned of part of Atton's shirt, which he had offered up in haste—covered the wound. It was all Evy could do to staunch the constant blood flow. She propped up his hand with her head, keeping his neck elevated as he almost lost consciousness.

"Stay with me, Bao. I need you to stay with me," Evy muttered through gritted teeth.

Igrayne's eyes focused on the blood. There was so much of it; it was everywhere—on the floor beneath him, staining his robes, on Evy's hands. She had never seen so much blood in her life. She supposed being cut down by a lightsaber was a merciful death because the weapon cauterized the wound due to the extreme heat of the blade. But Bao-Dur had been spared no merciful death; the blood everywhere was evidence of this. And with so much blood, it was difficult not to notice how incredibly..._human_ he was. As she knelt there at his side, her fingertips covered in scarlet, her heart sunk. What a fool she had been. His blood was no different than her own—in both texture and hue. For all their differences, they had never been more similar.

Igrayne thought she was going to be sick again. It didn't help that the ship was trembling as though huge tectonic plates were shifting positions below them. She put her head between her legs and took deep breaths to steady herself. Why was it so difficult to call on the Force at a time like this? Why did it seem so alien to her?

"We need to get out of here," Tren notified them, though there was no tactful way to put it. His eyes darted from Evy to Atton and back again. "This ship's not gonna hold another two minutes. There'll be pieces of us everywhere if we don't go now."

"Tren's right. Dustil, take Igrayne and go with Tren to find Carth," Atton said.

"But—"

"Just do it, man."

"Okay." Tren turned to the two others and issued a command. "Move out."

As Dustil ushered Igrayne out of the room and into the corridor, Bao-Dur strained to lift his head and follow them with his eyes. His soft-spoken voice called out to the young man once, and Dustil turned to look at the Zabrak with surprise that he should even be able to find the strength to muster his voice when all of his other faculties were beginning to fail him. As the young man approached him with tentative steps, he noted the grayish hue the alien's features had taken on, as if all the color had drained from his face. The dark circles under his normally warm brown eyes made him look wan and sickly. Despite his haggard appearance, Bao-Dur still managed to speak with great effort.

"Take care of her," he whispered softly. Dustil merely nodded in response, his heart softening for the first time toward the Zabrak as he looked upon him from where he stood. No longer their muscular, capable ship's tech, he now looked like a shell of the man he had once been. The contrast was so striking that Dustil had difficulty believing it was the same Zabrak before him now who had earlier clutched his collar and shoved him up against a wall in anger.

Dustil nodded respectfully, for once seeking to obey his wishes—if not for himself, then for Igrayne. At this moment, her welfare was his primary concern. As he turned to Igrayne, who still stood in the doorway, her dark eyes were wide and empty, not filled with tears, as he would have expected. He gently took her arm to lead her away.

"Carth is waiting."

"No! I'm staying here," she insisted.

"Igrayne, we _have_ to go," Tren called, his voice muffled by the sounds of explosions.

"No!" Igrayne cried as Dustil forcibly pulled her from the room, struggling to hold her down as she fought him every step of the way. She soon grew tired of the effort, her emotions spent, and allowed him to lead her away with very little difficulty.

With Igrayne gone, it was easier for Evy to concentrate on her patient. She struggled to keep her emotions in check as she went about her work, examining the wound and concocting a healing salve out of the materials in her medical supply kit that she had salvaged from a cache in one of the ship's rooms. If she had had a kolto tank and some way of suspending him within the liquid… But that was neither here nor there. She would have to make do with the supplies she had.

Unfortunately, the medical kit was sufficient to deal only with the non-serious emergencies on board the ship. Bandages, salves, antibiotics, and other medicines lined the inside of the tiny kit. As Evy scrounged through it, willing her trembling fingers to be steady, Atton supported Bao-Dur's head and neck in his hands.

It was then she heard Bao-Dur's voice call weakly to her. The petrified nurse paused to glance sidelong at him. He was so weak and fragile-looking that it frightened her to think of the long fight that lay ahead of him. How would he ever recover?

"Evy, I need you to do something for me."

Evy put a hand on his shoulder, more to comfort herself than him. He seemed fine, perfectly at peace and content. But how was that possible?

"You're going to be all right, Bao. You'll see."

His cold hand found her warm one and made contact. It was the most gentle touch Evy had ever felt in her life.

"Tell Igrayne that I forgive her, despite everything she did. Tell her that throughout everything, I never stopped loving her. I always will. My love became eternal the moment I pledged it in Tai Shan."

Evy looked as though she were about to speak.

"I am at peace now," Bao said, as though to assuage her fears. "Tell Igrayne not to worry about me, that I will always be with her. She must know this."

His hand guided hers to the utility belt around the waist, gently tracing her fingers to the lightsaber that lay belted there. He curled her fingers around the hilt and then let his hand drop from hers.

"Take it. Give her this."

Evy dutifully unclipped the lightsaber from his utility belt, handing it to Atton with a nod. She then reached for the medical kit to resume administering medical care.

"Evy!" Atton yelled after a few moments. She tossed aside the medical kit and put her hand to Bao-Dur's chest to observe his considerably slowed heart pace. His breath snagged in his throat, and for a few terrifying minutes, he stopped breathing.

"He's going into cardiac arrest!" Evy cried.

The grievous wound wrought by one of the Sith drones had been deep enough to penetrate the Zabrak's vitals, and now he was experiencing the abrupt cessation of normal circulation of the blood due to heart failure. Evy had to act fast. Within a few moments of his blood flow ceasing, his organs would begin to shut down, and then he would die.

Evy didn't even want to consider that possibility. She had never lost a patient before and she wasn't about to.

Evy fruitlessly began performing CPR on the ailing Zabrak, alternating between chest compressions and mouth to mouth rescue breaths. She had trained tirelessly in the life-saving skills needed for first-aid and resuscitation while in nursing school. Now she only hoped she would be able to put her skills to good use.

She gave two short breaths and allowed time for lung deflation. She repeated this four more times, with little success. The Zabrak was not responding to her care, and what's more, his pulse was almost nonexistent.

"Atton, I need your help!" she cried, at a loss for what to do. As she continued to administer life-saving CPR, carefully monitoring his heart rate in between each cycle, Evy felt a sense of despair begin to close in. How much longer would it take for him to draw in that first breath that assured her everything would be fine?

She stared at him listlessly, his stiff lips never moving to give her the sign she so desperately wanted. Her fingers felt his wrist for a pulse. When there was none, Evy just stared at him stone cold for a few minutes longer.

"No."

She continued CPR even though she knew it was useless. Atton seemed to sense her utter despair as he pulled her away, locking his hands under her armpits to give him better leverage. Evy fought against him, although he was much too strong for her.

"He needs medical care," she said, her voice sounding hysterical and on the verge of tears. "We should get him to the medical facility on the ship. Mical will know what to do. He'll be able to fix him up."

"Evy, it's over," Atton said brusquely, struggling to hold the woman in place. "He's gone. There's nothing else you could have done."

Evy cried for the first time in what seemed like years.

"What will I tell Igrayne? How will I tell her I've failed her?"

Atton wrapped a comforting arm around her, drawing her closer to him as they both looked down at the corpse beneath them, the shock of what had just happened not quite registering yet.

A slight tremble below them informed them the ship was floating through space, hurtling toward the atmosphere at breakneck speed. Upon reentry, the remaining infrastructure would simply be incinerated by a combination of the velocity and the ship's now significant structural flaws. Evy didn't have to do the math to figure out that it was going to be bad. She just hoped it would remain intact long enough for Carth's small vessel to navigate safely away from the destruction.

Still poised over Bao-Dur's pulseless body, the white waxy shape below her a grim reminder of her utter inability to fix what had been broken, Evy felt as her body was wracked by sobs. In the ensuing chaos, it had seemed as though she had stepped outside of her own body, adopting a fly on the wall perspective of the events as they played out to their inevitable tragic conclusion. She had been helpless to do anything but watch as her whole plan to rescue her fallen comrade was derailed.

As her hand swept down over the Zabrak's eyes, gently brushing the lids down in a show of honor to her fallen comrade, she said, "I'll tell her. I swear I will."

She quickly clipped Bao-Dur's lightsaber to her utility belt, promising to give it to Igrayne sometime later, when they were out of this mess. Telling Igrayne was going to be the hardest thing to do. How could she face her friend with her failure? How could she present her his lightsaber and say that everything was going to be all right?

Consumed by her thoughts, Evy did not notice as a lone durasteel beam shifted free of its mooring and toppled over into her path. Faster than lightning, a clammy body was pressed up against her, shoving her out of harm's way and into a small crevice that had been created when the back part of the wall split. She looked up into Atton's eyes, their bodies still entwined, and she could sense his anxiety by the short, strained bursts of air he drew into his lungs. His rapid heartbeat was another indicator of his concern for her.

"You okay?" he asked gently, his voice so soft and low that Evy thought she had never heard such a touch of sentiment in it before.

"I think so." Apart from the general scare of seeing the beam topple free, she was unharmed. "But what about our way out?"

The rigid set of Atton's mouth spoke volumes about their situation. He said nothing, but Evy took his silence to mean that any chance they ever had of making it on that vessel was ruined. As the dust from the fallen beam began to settle, violent tremors running all throughout the ship's chassis, Evy noted things were looking pretty bleak.

"There is no way out, is there?"

In response, Atton's arm snaked even tighter around her waist, drawing her deeper into the crook of his arm. Evy cuddled closer to him, allowing Atton's hand to clamp over the back of her head and shield her from falling debris. All around them, electrical systems were malfunctioning as the walls were stripped of their coverings, leaving gaping holes with exposed circuitry in the walls. The silver sparks licked the wires sharply, and Evy could smell a strong electrical odor permeating the air.

"That can't be good," Atton said, his olfactory senses picking up the ever so slight burning smell.

"Can't we get out of here?" Evy cried.

"It's no use—we're trapped! Unless you think you can lift that block all by yourself, I'd say it's over."

Evy's already watery green eyes seemed to be even more so after this declaration from Atton. She had been hoping, in the very least, he would offer her a little lie to make things easier in the end. To accept that she would soon be sharing the same fate as her dead friend—that was frightening.

"What if Carth and the others—"

"If they have any sense, they'll get the hell out of here before they're killed, too. Evy, look at me." He took hold of her frail shoulders, locking eyes with her. "I need you to keep it together for me. Okay?"

Evy nodded sharply; she was a medical professional, after all, surely she knew a thing or two about saving face. And dissolving into a sniveling puddle of tears was not about to help matters. So, with the back of her hand, Evy shakily wiped away the tears and gathered her pride, sniffling a little, clearing her runny sinuses as she looked all around for something to help them escape. The electrical burn smell was becoming stronger and more pronounced; the longer they waited, the more they risked perishing in a fire.

The alcove was large enough for her to stand up inside of it without hitting her head, but just barely. The confining space pressed her closer to Atton, and she had to keep her hand poised on the wall to prevent herself from toppling over back into his lap.

"What are you doing?"

"Seeing if I can squeeze through this hole."

A tiny gaping aperture—torn wide by the explosion—opened up into the ship's chaotic corridor. From there it would be a straight shot to the docking bay and to Carth's vessel. But negotiating the narrow passage would not be easy. From the looks of it, they would have to dodge a flurry of particulate debris that was raining down on the crumbling durasteel walls. If their chances of surviving in here were slim, their chances of surviving out there were almost nonexistent. Despite this, Evy pressed forward.

"No!" Atton screamed, his voice muted by the sound of another of the ship's walls giving way under the strain of the structural distortion. Evy's head whipped around fast enough to cramp. What she saw was truly frightening. It was almost as if the vessel was being flattened into a pancake by a giant palm; the walls all looked strangely misshapen. Evy rolled out of the way just in time to avoid being permanently flattened herself. When the wall landed only an inch from crushing her windpipe, Atton declared, "Come here," and pulled her into an embrace so that her back was to his chest and his arms were wrapped in front of her. His presence was strangely calming, so despite the fact she should have been screaming, Evy instead settled into his arms and closed her eyes, enjoying the sounds of his breathing and the feeling each breath produced as it lifted her up ever so gently, buoying her for a brief time. She tickled the small hairs of his arms with her hands, more to busy herself with something than to actually act playful.

"What do you think it's like?" she asked, turning her head slightly so that her flaxen hair fanned out across his chest and her cheek was pressed to his.

"Death?"

"No…what comes after."

"I guess we'll soon find out."

"Perhaps I deserve it," she said, burying her face in the collar of his smelly old smuggler's shirt without coming up for air. "Perhaps it's karma."

"For what?"

"For not being able to save him, Atton. I thought I had it within my power. I was so sure when he sent Igrayne away that I'd fix him. I've always been able to fix things before. You, Tren… It should have been easy…"

"Look," he said very gently, using his thumb to dab at the tiny water spots that had formed in the corners of her eyes, "You did everything within your power to save him, but sometimes, I don't know—fate, the Force, whatever you want to call it—cheats us of the time we have left. I mean, look at us."

"At least I'm here with you," Evy whispered. "I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be right now than here."

His hand tightened comfortingly on her own, and she thought she heard him choke a little when he said, "I was such a stupid idiot."

"Why?"

"For, you know, being jealous of you and Tren. And for not trusting you at times. And for not saying all the things I always wanted to say to you. And now I don't think I'll ever have the time."

"You don't have to say anything to me," she said gently. "I already know."

"Yeah, you do." His mouth relaxed into a smile. "That's what I love about you. Always have."

She gazed at him, committing every feature of his face to her memory. His perfectly sculpted cheekbones, his dark inquisitive eyes, his slightly tanned skin, and his eternally mussed brown hair—all his physical traits stood as reminders of what had first drawn her to him, the exciting thrill she felt at how mysterious and dangerous he was, so unlike any other man she had ever met in her relatively sheltered life. And when she had been unwittingly thrust into the heat of battle, fighting alongside him, she had learned what made those eyes flash black, those nostrils flare ever so slightly, that mouth flip into a smile or—just as quickly—melt into a frown. All the quirks that had drawn her in had suddenly begun to construct their own meaning, becoming singularly important to her. As she traced her forefinger over each of his features, her touch filtered into every nerve ending on his body.

"Hold me," she said, her voice barely a whisper. He did as she asked, his arms finding purchase around her body. Despite the loud explosions going off around them and the cloud of debris raining down upon them, she felt truly at home right here, nestled safely in the harbor of his arms.

"You were all I ever wanted. And now I finally have you."

"Of course you have me," he said, his hand grasping her own, halting it in its pursuit of his facial contours. "You always have."

For the next few moments, the only sounds were that of the ship continuing to fall apart around them. Evy almost thought she heard footsteps in the distance, but she chalked it up to wishful thinking. It seemed as though they had been in here hours; perhaps the long, agonizing wait was beginning to get to her, to make her imagine things that weren't really there.

And then all her suspicions were confirmed with one word.

"Atton!" the Republic admiral's voice called, barely audible over the din. "Evy!"

She could hear him climbing through the wreckage because the distinct sounds of items being shifted aside were audible in the small chamber. The noise grew louder as Carth's voice drew nearer to them. Atton peeled Evy off him momentarily to peek through the tiny sliver of light and into the room, where he could see the others had gathered. Carth was there, and he was working with Mical to try and move a piece of the wall that had been wedged in the doorway. Carina ordered the two men to stand back, then stood stone still, focusing her mind on levitating the piece of wall safely out of the way. As she worked, Evy could see beads of sweat beginning to form on her brow. She could feel the emerald-eyed woman grasping at the Force, struggling to use all of her mental strength to manipulate the obstruction into the air and out the door. After she finished this task, she slumped quickly to the ground—though not before Mical could catch her in his arms.

"Carina!" he cried.

"Get her to the ship!" Carth ordered the young blonde doctor. Mical wrapped one of Carina's lifeless arms around his neck, using it as leverage to help walk her back to the vessel on the admiral's orders. As he left, the only remaining person in the room was Carth. He offered his hand to Evy, helping pull her free of the alcove, and Atton followed suit. Together, the three of them ran through the hall, dodging bits of falling ceiling and debris. Their progress was greatly hindered by the numerous shortcuts they were forced to take. This was mostly because the walls had caved in, sealing off certain sections of the ship's passageways for good. Fortunately, Carth now knew much of the layout of the ship due to his having to make multiple trips through its corridors, so he guided them through almost effortlessly until they came to the docking bay. Beyond it was wide open space. Evy's heart leapt for joy at the sight of the nebula of stars twinkling just beyond. Soon they would be flying through hyperspace, well on their way home, and all of this would be behind them.

Suddenly, halting mid-step, she remembered something and flipped around to face Atton.

"We have to go back!"

"What? No!"

"Bao-Dur is a Jedi," she stammered. "He deserves a proper burial. We can transport the body to Dantooine. I know we don't have a morgue, but Mical's medbay can—"

"It's too late, Evy! There's no time!"

Without further discussing the point, Atton shoved her forward, ushering her onto the boarding ramp of the vessel with a strained "Go! Go! Go! Go!" As Evy leapt forward, clearing the last distance between her and the ship, she felt the engines buck to life. Atton was close behind her, herding her up the ramp and into the main hold. As soon as they were safely lodged in their seats, Carth and his co-pilot, Dustil, made the jump to hyperspace.

Not two minutes had passed before Igrayne came down the long passage from the cockpit, a look of concern on her face.

"Where's Bao-Dur?" she asked.

The grim look on Evy's face was not at all reassuring to Igrayne or to any of the others who lounged in the ship's main hold. Her face was pale and stark white, the color making her vivid green eyes stand out even more as they danced back and forth between Atton and Igrayne, looking for guidance. Her hands trembled as she touched the hilt of the lightsaber, and she felt the engines beneath them buzz to life as Carth increased the ship's throttle, setting to full ahead maneuvering speed in anticipation of the jump to hyperspace. Despite the deafening drone of the ship's engines, the silence in the main hold couldn't have been more apparent.

"Over here," Evy whispered, grabbing at Igrayne's arm and nodding to one of the nearby open rooms. She didn't want to have to subject her friend's pain to the scrutiny of the others.

"No," Igrayne said, yanking her arm free of her grasp with a force that surprised Evy. "Tell me what has happened. Where's Bao?"

"I'm sorry," she said, her eyes full of tears. The skin on her clenched knuckles stretched so tightly over the tendons that her flesh colored white. "Bao's dead. I tried to revive him. I did everything I could, Igrayne."

"What?" Igrayne whispered breathlessly, a hand going to her chest as if she was trying to coach herself to take deep breaths. Her eyes scanned the sea of faces in the main hold as if looking to see that Evy was playing some kind of cruel joke on her, but the reality was grim indeed. "I don't understand."

"The wound…it was too deep. There was little I could do but keep him comfortable until he passed."

Evy continued speaking at a rapid-fire pace, fearing she wouldn't be able to get the rest of it out if she stopped now.

"Bao—before he died—he gave me this."

She produced the lightsaber, laying it out upon her palm as though it were a sacred artifact that would bring the peace needed to calm Igrayne's frenzied state of mind.

"He wanted me to give it to you…" She pitched her voice low in a whisper. "…And to say that he forgives you. For everything. And that he will always love you. He always has."

The ebony-haired woman accepted the lightsaber without comment, mechanically buckling it to her utility belt.

It was difficult to gauge Igrayne's reaction because she did not cry at first, and Evy supposed that was because it would take time for the shock to settle in. Instead she kept looking around the main hold, her eyes wild with terror, her pupils dilated, her throat parched and dry. Eventually Dustil came to stand beside her, touching an arm to her shoulder in a comforting gesture. Igrayne hardly acknowledged him. Her hand rested upon the lightsaber, clutching it for moral support.

She made an angry guttural noise in the base of her throat, but the cry soon turned to one of agony. With each intake of breath, her cries became horrible strangled noises, and she turned to Dustil for a shoulder in which to suppress them. He clutched her tightly to him, his hands threading through her mussed black hair to try and comfort her, though he scarcely knew how. The tenderness was reciprocated. Igrayne clung to him, her petite body suddenly appearing very tiny and frail as it was wracked with sobs. She no longer looked like the strong, self-sufficient Jedi she had always been.

Evy merely stared at them, mute, and feeling very helpless despite all she had done. She turned her head slightly to survey her companions, who were looking at Igrayne with sympathy. Rani had crept up from the cockpit, and she could see her face was damp with tears although her long golden-brown hair slightly masked the fact she was crying. None of her companions dared approach Igrayne. Dustil led her away from the main hold, and Evy let them go, feeling shaken. Atton's arms around her reassured her that everything would be all right. His chin rested on her shoulder, snuggling closer to her as he kissed her cheek thoughtfully. The tenderness surprised Evy, though not entirely; Atton had never been adverse to displays of affection—only when they were in the presence of others. But he didn't seem to care that all their companions were standing about watching. All that mattered was they were fortunate enough to have survived perishing in the ruins of Eklipse's deteriorating vessel—and to still have each other. The battle they had just been through made her crave his love and companionship even more.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you, sweets?" he whispered tenderly into her hair.

"Yes, but say it again," Evy replied, her eyes closed, the delicate golden lashes fanning out gently over her cherubic cheeks. "I need to hear it now."

-------------------

Carina entered the medbay with a degree of solemnity. Her heart was aching for her friend, and despite the fact she had lost her strength onboard Eklipse's vessel while using her Force powers and should have been resting in one of the port dormitories, she couldn't bring herself to go to sleep. Too much had happened within the short space of a few hours. Too much had changed. And the only person to whom she could run when things got rough was the one person who still hated her. All the same, she mustered up enough strength to face him in the medbay, schooling her expression to one of disdain.

Dr. Mical Disciple was going through his medical records, as expected. Carina made her presence known by a strategic throat clearing. He looked up sharply, slightly startled by her appearance. His expression softened a little when he realized who it was.

"Carina… You look pale."

"I thought you should know that Bao's dead."

Mical stood silently staring at her, at a complete loss for words. He began nervously tapping his writing implement against the datapad he was holding. It was strange behavior for him, but then again, he had an unusual way of reacting to the things that hurt him the most. She suspected this was why he had withdrawn from her after learning of her illicit affair with her Jedi master, Kavar. Although she had not forgiven him for his inexcusable behavior, part of her—the human part—understood the reason why he guarded his heart so carefully. Emotions could be turned against him. Just as they had been turned against her when the Jedi delivered her a frightening ultimatum—either turn her family back to the light side, or kill them.

Drawing herself from her reverie, she added, "And Trinn. Both were casualties."

"I'm sorry," Mical said feebly. "We will honor them for their service. They were both very brave to have sacrificed their lives."

"Yes, they were," Carina agreed.

The silence that had befallen the doctor and the young woman was punctuated suddenly by a comment from Mical.

"But that isn't the only reason why you are here. Is it?"

She shook her head, feeling slightly ashamed that even after all they had been through, she was still so transparent to him at least.

"On Eklipse's ship…you asked me to lead. Why?"

Mical's eyes focused very intently on his work, although Carina could tell by the way his pupils blankly scanned the datapad that he wasn't really reading anything.

"Because I knew the Force would guide you to the bridge faster than any of us."

"Right," she snorted. "Look, let's get one thing straight. I trust in the Force. _Not_ the Jedi."

"I never said you did. Being a Jedi isn't like being a doctor or a nurse. The title is a privilege. It comes from an inner strength only very few people possess. What you choose to do with it is your business."

"And this from someone who's an ex-Jedi himself," Carina said with a humorless chuckle, the irony not lost on her.

"I left for reasons that were different from yours. I can still see the good in the Order, unlike you. And I can see how badly you need the Jedi."

"Au contraire, the Jedi need _me_. Not the other way around," she corrected him. "That's why they manipulated me into killing my family, why they began molding me into their pawn when I lost my memory. I feel so…_helpless_ when I'm around them. Like I have no control. Like my only worth is in serving them. Do you know how that makes me feel?"

Mical was silent, watching the passion burn in her captivating emerald green eyes that he had dreamed about so many nights after he thought she had died.

"I think I am beginning to see why you did what you did, why the dark side claimed you so easily…" he said quietly, although he didn't necessarily approve.

"You're the only one who ever understood me," she said quietly. The distance between them seemed amplified by his silence, and altogether too vast and incomprehensible for her too grasp. She licked her chapped lips to revive them of moisture. Her throat had gone dry. "Please, Mical. Don't make this any harder than it already is."

He took this as his cue to move toward her in anticipation of an embrace. When his arms encircled her, drawing her into his warmth, his raw musk tickling her nostrils, she finally felt at peace. Yet the moment was just that; too beautiful too last. Too perfect to be true.

"Every time I look at you," he said through gritted teeth, the sinews in his arms tensing with rage, "I see him. I see you two together. Somehow I can't get past it."

Without prompting, Carina pulled away, her hands lingering on the strong muscles of his forearms as she gazed into his oceanic blue eyes, the very same ones that had haunted her dreams for so many nights.

"I thought he was you."

Mical was stunned into silence. His blue eyes widened slightly into perfect almond shapes, surprise registering on his features. What she had said had truly shaken him to the core.

Carina continued at length, her hand brushing a few strands of mussed blonde hair out of Mical's eyes so she could better view them. "All those nights your eyes haunted my dreams. I wondered to myself, 'Who _is_ this man? How can he have such an effect on me?' I was sure we were lovers. My instincts proved right."

His hands seeking her jaw line to draw her lips up to his, Mical kissed her once, deeply, to assure her of his faith in her. When he pulled away, Carina looked distant, as if somehow the kiss had only made things worse between them. She peeled his hand off her face and shook her head.

"Don't do that."

"Why not?"

"It only makes things more difficult."

"Things?"

Carina began to pace to dispel some of her nervous energy. As she did so, she wrung her hands in anguish.

"I need to take some time off…from the Force, from the Jedi, from you." She paused and locked gazes with him meaningfully. "From everything."

"Why? Don't you love me, Carina?"

"I do. With all my heart," she said, her hand resting upon her chest, which was pounding fit to burst. "But I need to find myself and come to terms with who I am before I can love you again. My heart needs time to heal."

Mical nodded, looking slightly offended, but acting gentlemanly all the same.

"I see." He came up alongside her, brushing shoulders. This close, he only had to lean down a little to look deep into her eyes. "Well when you find yourself, come find me. I will be waiting for you. Forever, if need be."

That said, Mical exited the medbay, leaving a very conflicted-looking Carina gazing wistfully after him.


	31. The Trial

"Indy, get us out of here!" Carth bellowed, his hands gripping the pilot's seat from behind.

"I'm working on it!"

The smuggler's hands expertly worked the complicated dials of the navicomputer, disengaging the lock. Carth, Indy, Han, and Dustil, who had crept up behind his father with quiet steps, all watched as the angular ship puffed up and out before fire lanced through the giant hull, then a golden fireball ripped the ship apart from the inside out. The four of them watched, stricken mute, as the explosion ripped through Eklipse's vessel, sending flames and shards of blackened debris hurtling out into space. Within moments of evacuating, the ship had been reduced to little more than a battered wreck.

Han elicited the sigh he had been holding for the past two minutes.

"Thank the Force," Carth said.

In the chaos, the admiral hadn't noticed Rani stalk up beside him, hugging her arms around her body. As he glanced sidelong into her warm caramel eyes, tears of joy still fresh on her moistened lashes, a smile came over his normally staid features.

"It's over; Eklipse is dead."

"We should put in at Dantooine," Rani instructed him. "Atton intercepted a transmission from Master Vrook on the comm unit. It was most urgent."

"You heard the woman," Carth said, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement as he lifted his husky voice. "Chart a course for Dantooine."

"I'm on it, Admiral," Indy confirmed with confidence, her voice adopting an uncharacteristically honeyed tone.

As Indy plugged in the coordinates for the destination, Rani flitted down the slim passage toward the main hold, where a flurry of movement was visible. The cabin's occupants were walking back and forth on small errands for Igrayne—one to secure a blanket, another to locate a hot cup of caffa—and Evy sat with her right arm encircling the woman on a small crude bench near the medbay. With her one arm, she gingerly stroked tendrils of chocolate brown hair behind Igrayne's shoulders. Rani approached and cupped her hands over her knees, bending down to gaze at Igrayne.

"Are you all right?"

The woman shook her head but said nothing, accepting the cup of hot caffa handed to her by Tren. Rani smiled in acknowledgment of her brother's thoughtfulness.

"Just drink that. It'll make you feel better."

As if on cue, Dustil made his way toward Igrayne from the cockpit, squeezing through the small throng to sit beside her opposite Evy. He had a protective hand nestled on her knee and, witnessing this, Rani immediately felt an outpouring of sympathy for the young woman. Her mind was probably consumed with thoughts of Bao-Dur.

Momentarily disrupted from her reverie, Rani heard the thrumming swoosh of the door slide open as Carina emerged from the medbay, her normally olive complexion looking quite pallid. As the young emerald-eyed woman drew level with her, she noticed a weary-looking Mical standing in the doorframe of the medbay, his blonde locks lazily messed up, shadows of fatigue lining the inner rims of his eyes. It was clear to see who he was gazing at as he stood there in casual disarray, the frumpiness of his long tunic made more apparent by the stark contrast of his frail, thin frame. Rani swallowed the knot that had formed in her throat and walked back up to the cockpit. Her gentle touch upon Carth's shoulder startled him; his soldier's reflexes kicked into oppressive action as he swirled around speedily. When he saw it was Rani, however, his visibly tensed body relaxed.

"Don't sneak up on me like that."

"We're all a little antsy, I know. When we get to Dantooine, things will be better."

"How?" he said, pursing his lips together. "How will they be better? Bao-Dur's dead, as is Trin. That's not just something you get over easily."

"In time, the wounds will heal. I'm not saying it will be easy. But Dantooine is a safe place for us to mourn in private. Don't forget, we're still _traitors_ of the Republic."

"Keep reminding me, gorgeous. That's why I question walking into the Enclave with big, stupid grins on our faces to answer Master Vrook's summons. When have the Jedi ever defended our reputation against the Exchange, or Czerka, or anybody?"

"The Jedi can't ignore the evidence now; far too many have felt Eklipse's grasp upon the galaxy. And with the Sith lord dead…"—here she paused to lick her sensuous lips and revive them of moisture—"It will be difficult for them to refute the truth."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, the Jedi have been fine with just ignoring the evidence in the past."

"At least give him time enough to speak his piece, and maybe what he says will surprise you."

Defeated, Carth hung his head, strands of auburn hair veiling his intense brown eyes. He shook his head, and the wisps of hair responded by bobbing up and down against his temples.

"You're right, gorgeous. To Dantooine it is."

Rani rubbed his back supportively, her fingers moving in soothing circular motions to knead the kinks out of it. In response to the gentle massaging of her fingers, Carth elicited a long, satisfying sigh that was music to Rani's ears.

"Force, how I'm looking forward to some downtime."

They clasped hands tightly.

"Me too, Carth. Me too."

---------------------

Gazing through the viewport of his heavily customized starfighter, _Black Sun_, into the endless vista of stars beyond, and at the quickly retreating engines of the other ship, Jene Cyrus worked the taut skin at the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, in an almost meditative stance. The useless HK droid had been reduced to scrap amid the explosion of the Sith lord's vessel, and now the heroes of the Republic were speedily making their getaway—to where, he didn't know. Nor did he care. All that mattered now was the mission had been a failure from the start.

It was not that he had failed in eliminating all fourteen—or thirteen, by their latest count—of the targets, but rather that his arrogance had led him on an utterly one-sided goose chase he knew he could not win. For every time his finger poised upon the trigger of the anti-matter Annihilator, he found he did not have the conviction to actually follow through on the action. Perhaps it was the thrill of the hunt, the delight in knowing he was about to make another kill, closing in on his prey…

They had made it all too easy.

Had killing and vaporizing every known thing within a twenty-mile radius really lost its allure?

_Yes_, he decided with conviction. His weary mind had been all too consumed by the salivatingly delicious idea of the hunt that he had neglected to acknowledge what little challenge his puny targets actually posed him. Most notably that pathetic excuse for a Jedi master.

Sitting in silence for a meditative moment, Jene glared through the viewport, his one yellow eye sparkling in malicious glee.

Jene's gloved hands worked the dials of the ship's navicomputer, putting the ship into orbit around the nearest planet. The ultra advanced engines of the modified ship cut his travel time in half, ensuring he would reach the checkpoint before the heroes managed to fly by on their way to their destination. The readout from the console told him it was a very out-of-the-way planet called Lok, some barren, dusty sh!thole in the Mid Rim that was teeming with sulfur pools, lifeless rivers, and dormant volcanoes. The perfect theatrical stage for his grand exit, his _pièce de résistance_.

It had to be unique, special, a masterly tour-de-force that exhibited the full range and effect of his genius. It had to be orchestrated in just such a way that the heroes—or traitors, as they had been aptly dubbed—would marvel at the particularly adroit maneuver.

Bringing the engines to a grinding halt as he was gently tugged into the planet's orbit, Jene stood up from the pilot's seat and armed the thermo-concussion missiles with calm, precise movements. But instead of aiming them at the rapidly approaching vessel, he targeted himself, waiting for just the proper moment to activate the explosion.

"Three…" he muttered, his voice completely placid and devoid of any emotion.

The ship plowed forward. He noted it banked slightly to the left, as if the pilot had caught sight of him and was trying to steer clear of the oncoming threat.

"Two…"

In a last-ditch attempt to steer the ship away, the pilot manning the heroes' vessel took it into a heady nosedive that sent the ship barreling into the planet's atmosphere.

"One."

Visions of his beautiful young wife, Jana, in the small house they shared on Beheboth, surrounded by their wide-eyed children, Allie and Davis, at the breakfast table suddenly flooded his mind. Startled by the intensity of the long-repressed memory and how fully it encompassed his senses, Jene's eyes widened slightly in shock.

The cockpit erupted in a volley of flames, sending an orange cloud spinning out into space. Within moments the debris cleared, silently floating away, and all evidence the Republic "freelance specialist" had ever been there was gone.

--------------

Igrayne felt a shiver run through the hull of the ship and balled both hands into fists, her fingers firmly gripping both sides of the sterile examination table as Mical penned his diagnosis on a clipboard nearby. The vibrations ran throughout the ship's chassis, causing the doctor to toddle like a child to one wall and grasp for support. Momentarily knocked to his knees by the tremors, Mical made a valiant attempt to move toward his patient on the nearby table. Igrayne kept applying pressure to the table, struggling to keep her frail body afloat as the worst of the vibrations gripped the ship, towing it slightly off-course.

Once the tremors subsided, Mical recovered his senses and rushed to her side.

"Are you all right in there?" A fierce pounding sounded on the exterior of the closed door. Dustil's concerned voice cried out to them

Shortly after boarding, Igrayne had collapsed and begun hemorrhaging; Mical had warned her about the complications that over-exerting herself could have on her body, but she had followed the others, heedless, into battle. Her grief over Bao-Dur's loss—and the anxiety brought on by the ensuing skirmish aboard Eklipse's vessel—amplified her already heightened nerves, and her body had responded accordingly. Mical had momentarily staunched the bleeding, but the Jedi was still visibly shaken by her body's response.

"You can get dressed," the doctor instructed as Igrayne tugged on her robes and sat straight up. She tied the sash tightly around her middle and stepped gingerly off the table, reluctant to let go.

"What was that?"

"I am not sure, but somehow I get the feeling we are about to find out," Mical replied, using the Force to read the presence on the other side of the door.

As the door swished open, Dustil stood there looking concerned. His eyes darkened slightly as he looked at Mical.

"Cyrus detonated his ship within range of us. In case you're wondering, that's the tremor you felt. Father thinks there might be some damage to the hull, but without an engineer to assess the damage, there's no telling how bad it is."

Igrayne's stomach knotted slightly, and she felt as though she would collapse with fatigue. Mical's arm shot out to grasp her, using his weight to support her.

"Igrayne!"

"Is she all right?" Dustil asked, as he too moved to support her. When the two men buoyed her between them, her pulse quickened a little and the color returned to her face.

"I'm fine. I just need to sit down."

"You need extensive rest as well. Your body is telling you to slow down, Igrayne. You don't want to bleed out again, do you?"

"I think you should really listen to the doctor," Dustil advised.

Looking at both men, Igrayne replied, "You're right. If you don't mind, I would like to rest until we get to Dantooine."

"Yes, please do. There's a spare cot with your name written all over it."

"All right."

Mical and Dustil helped her over to one of the cots in the corner. Although only equipped with a simple thin sheet, the woman snuggled up under the covers into an almost fetal position, both arms crossed over her chest. Within moments, the steady, shallow sound of her breathing produced a soothing rhythm to their ears.

Mical nodded toward the door, indicating to Dustil that he would like a private word. As the men moved outside to give Igrayne some peace and quiet, Mical's voice lowered worriedly.

"Will we make it to Dantooine?"

"Father isn't certain, but he thinks so. Han and Indy are already at work repairing the damage to the thrusters."

As he said this, Mical noticed for the first time the ship had come to a complete stop. He had grown so used to the pleasant buzz of the propulsion engines beneath his feet that it had become second nature to ignore them entirely. Now the marked difference in the noise level was such that he had surprisingly little difficulty hearing every word Dustil spoke.

"Good. As for me, I must tend my patient. You will alert me _when_ we reach Dantooine, so I can arrange for transference of Igrayne to the Enclave's medical ward?"

"_If_," Dustil corrected him.

Mical's head dipped in a laconic bow as he noted the significance of the word. "Forgive me. _If_."

"And pardon my saying, but shouldn't a matter this… _delicate_ require some amount of discretion?" Dustil queried.

"I am afraid that is not possible. I would much rather she receive care in the hands of qualified professionals. That is to say—I feel as though I have limited means to treat her right now. Her condition necessitates a higher level of care, both mental and physical. It is beyond my capacity to provide both."

"And you? Are you going to feel calm just waltzing back into the Enclave?"

"My personal feelings are of no importance. My patient is foremost in my mind."

Dustil slowly nodded, his eyes locking onto Mical fervently.

"Good." He moved toward the cockpit. "I'll be back to check on her later. Just make sure she's comfortable."

"Of course."

----------------------------

Han and Indy stood in the filthy ship's bilge, mending the cheap but reliable engine module to the best of their ability. When Indy had swiped her old toolbox from a forward compartment in the cockpit, and sat cross-legged in front of the engines, the distinctive smell of thruster lubricant permeating the air, Han had been pleasantly reminded of their early days running smuggling operations together. There had been no rules back then; everything had been so uncomplicated right up until the moment the four nurses had walked into _The Lucky Cannok_ and turned their world completely on its head. Ever since then, every look from Han—every unspoken glance, every nuance, every nervous laugh—had suddenly become pregnant with meaning to Indy, as though she were seeing everything again but through an entirely different lens.

That was why her eyes were intensely focused on Han's as he carefully worked to repair what little damage the thrusters had taken, his hands protected with thick, padded gloves to avoid burns. The engines ran very hot and relied on cooling shrouds to protect passengers from experiencing the discomfort of a rather toasty flight. So Han gingerly worked around them, careful not to let the heated metal make contact with the sensitive skin on his arms. Indy handed him various tools as he required them, trying with all her might to have the foresight enough to know what he would need next and when.

Her hand gripped a hydrospanner as she peered down at him, finally mustering the courage to speak amid the deafening silence.

"Do you think we'll make it to Dantooine?"

"We might have to put down on Lok first. I'd prefer not to push the engines if they're not stable, kid."

"You're right; that would be foolish."

"Incredibly."

Han's silence made it clear enough that talking to him when he was in the middle of a task was a little like pulling teeth. Indy hoped to pull a few more before they were through.

"So what were you really doing that night I found you slumming around on Corellia?"

His head crooked to the side in annoyance, and he narrowed his eyes at her while rubbing an errant strand of hair out of his eyes with the back of one elbow.

"Oh, for the love of the Force! How many times do I need to tell—"

"No, that's not what I mean," she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I know I pushed you away…or at least you think I did. I was trying to protect you. Whether you believe it or not."

"You want to know what I was really doing on Corellia after the battle, kid?" Han asked, pivoting his body toward Indy so that his one arm remained draped casually over his knee. He extended his hand and Indy slapped the hydrospanner into it, feeling testy. Han turned back toward the thruster and began working again. "Kicking myself for walking away from a good thing."

Indy, who at times was adverse to displays of affection, felt that comment deserved a hug, so she embraced him fully, her arms digging into the fleshy parts of his shoulders. Han elicited a sharp cry, and Indy loosened her grip accordingly.

"Careful there, kid. Don't go all soft on me…"

She playfully punched him in the shoulder when he put down the hydrospanner; not enough to bruise him, but enough to let him know the great rapport they shared would be undaunted after this little trial.

One final twist of the tool and the thruster began heating up, making a loud droning noise that was near deafening due to their confinement below decks. Indy and Han both placed their hands over their ears to protect their hearing. The thruster lubricant, which was notoriously difficult to remove from a being's hands, coated the outer rims of Han's earlobes, and he cursed loudly in complaint.

A loud cheer could be heard filtering down through the air streams from the occupants of the forward cockpit above, as Carth's voice announced, "All systems are up and running!"

"Next stop: Dantooine," Han said to Indy with a grin.

"Thank the Force. I can't wait to get on terra firma and take a nice, long dip in the 'fresher."

"You're one to talk," he said, presenting his dirty hands, which were lacquered with thruster lubricant. "And besides, we won't be doing much in the way of _dipping_ if the Council chooses to ground us and impound our ship."

"Right now, I really don't care. I just want to go home."

"Me too, kid. Me too."

Han and Indy paused a moment before moving toward the bilge's door and climbing the long treads back up into the main hold. He extended his hand to hers, his thumb pressing circles into the callused skin of her palms, their fingers interlacing for a brief moment before the contact was broken all too soon.

------------------

The few who found themselves present in the cockpit at the time of their arrival to Dantooine saw the glowing orb floating in space before them. Like always, the planet seemed like it hadn't been touched by trouble in a millennium, the surface seemingly unscarred by war or extensive building. Appearances deceived, however, as Dantooine had seen its fair share of action. It was a backwater planet by some standards, but one could hardly deny it was a fitting residence for the serene Jedi. Silence reigned as the planet took up the view in the transparisteel viewport, but it was soon broken.

"Stop staring at it. Indy; see if you can't contact them," Carth almost barked, causing a slight jolt from the pilot and archaeologist, who had been regarding the planet with something between nervousness and happiness. She gave the man a backward glance of slight annoyance at his manner but refrained from commenting. Everyone was a bit tense now that they were finally ending the mess they'd wound up in on Telos.

"Yes, sir," came the curt reply as she moved to the comm controls.

Apart from Carth and Indy, Han was also present, lounging in the co-pilot's seat as he gave the planet a calculating look. He glanced briefly at Carth, who seemed anxious; this was not a surprise, as most of the inhabitants of the ship were probably feeling similar. Han's gaze slid from the admiral to Indy as she got someone on the comm and started speaking, announcing who they were and their purpose in a calm manner, conversing with the person on the other end with extreme care. The conversation itself went unheard by him; he was assuming she was giving the basic information needed when landing in any starport as well as a few more bits of information based on their identities.

Disconnecting the comm., she looked up, giving Carth a terse smile. "We've been cleared to land in the courtyard and we've been promised a meeting with the Jedi Council," she informed him, glancing slightly to the side as if contemplating something, and then adding, "If you don't mind me saying, sir, we should probably step lightly. The fellow on the comm sounded like he was being hounded by a Zakkeg. These may be Jedi, but we're still enemies of the Republic."

The admiral nodded. "We already know that, but it never hurts to be reminded," he murmured as he glanced behind him, down the hall leading into the main hold of their rickety vessel. "You proceed; I'll go inform the others of this."

With those orders, the admiral left the cockpit, leaving Han and Indy alone to handle the task of landing the ship in its designated spot.

With a sad frown, Indy looked down at the controls as she did what she'd been ordered to do. It was truly odd to find themselves almost at the end of their struggle, but the joy was somewhat hollow to her at this moment. The _Centurion's Blade_ was still on her mind despite the fact she knew she was likely to never see her trusty companion ever again.

A hand nudged her in the shoulder, and she threw a glance at Han. He shot her a look and she gave a small smile, turning her attention back to her task. Trust him to take her mind off the things she had lost.

-------------------------------------------

"Finally we're getting this over with," Tren groused as he sat on a crate near one of the bulkheads right next to the entrance to the cockpit. Carth, who had just divulged the information Indy had told him minutes before, seemed to agree wholeheartedly with the man. Their journey had been long and difficult; only a suicidal adrenaline junkie would find any pleasure in their situation.

While such thoughts were present in the young doctor's mind, his prime concern was for his patient, Igrayne, who still lay resting where he had left her. Mical's relief was more on behalf of the battered woman's steadily improving condition rather than his own. Easily, he caught Carth's attention with a brief gesture.

"Admiral, I would wish to transfer Igrayne to the medical ward at the Enclave rather than keep her here. Her condition—" The doctor paused, slightly uncertain, but Carth merely nodded, leaving it at that. All of them understood her plight in the aftermath of what had happened; they had all suffered for what had been a severe case of bad luck and circumstances.

"Go tell Indy; I'm sure she can arrange something," Carth instructed, nodding toward the direction of the area he had in mind. Mical gave a nod and a "thank you" before going off in the direction of the cockpit, leaving the others to their own devices as he sought to prepare a spot in the Enclave's medical wards for his patient.

Other than slight expressions of relief that their situation was almost solved, the main hold grew silent in reverence to the people they'd lost, found, and parted with. Thoughts of continuing with their lives as they were, maybe even improve upon them, in the cases of those who had been less than fortunate in the aftermath of the Battle of Dantooine, floated around in a few minds. They all knew this endeavor that they found themselves in would turn out to be just as tense as the bitter fighting they'd been doing on Eklipse's ship. To prove one's innocence would be the hardest task in this lengthy, relentless mission.

Dustil rose from his seat and caught Carth's attention, leading his father to a secluded spot where none of the others would hear their conversation. The young man seemed disturbed for reasons unknown to Carth. But it seemed as though he would soon find out.

"Father, I think it would be best if I remained behind while everyone meets the Council," Dustil said slowly, proving that this was a matter he'd thought about for a long time. "My former position won't exactly thrill them and I'm not eager to face them."

Carth, understanding his son's reasoning, nodded in agreement. "I understand. You can remain behind, and we'll outline the events to them. I'm sure they'd prefer that you remained out of their Enclave as well."

He rested a hand on his son's shoulder, a weak smile crossing his features. Dustil glanced down at the hand thoughtfully before looking up again and returning the faint smile.

-------------------------------------------

As most of the crew gathered in the main hold, Indy commanded the floor, drawing the pyramidal holocron out of a small satchel strung over her shoulder and presenting it to them. Under the dim ship's lighting, the holocron took on a bluish cast, glinting like a precious cerulean jewel in her palms. She raised it and looked first to Han.

"Before we speak with the Jedi Council, we need to get our stories straight."

"Why can't we just tell them the truth?" Rani asked, running a hand through her golden-brown curls as she tiredly watched the archaeologist pace the floor.

"Think about it. You were there when I opened the holocron."

Unseen by the rest of the crew members, Rani's hand ran absently over the Telosian sapphire ring that jangled on its chain deep within her pants pocket. She had been unable to prevent herself from bending to retrieve it when Dustil hauled it in her direction at the safe house. And although her feelings for Destrik had all but evaporated in the wake of her love for Carth, she knew the ring was instrumental in granting them the ability to open the holocron.

_My last gift to you…_

Destrik's deep baritone, so subtly rich and full of authority, sent a shiver of fear down her spine as she recalled his inexplicable hold over her and how, even when faced with the demise of all that was good and pure in the galaxy, she had faltered before slipping him the vial of poison that was eventually his undoing. Even just holding the ring now was doing something strange to her mind, working a force unseen on her just as Destrik had while he still lived.

Shivering, Rani withdrew her hand from the sapphire and instead focused on the prospect of her impending nuptials to Carth. Still, it did little to quell Destrik's disarming presence in her thoughts.

"You're right."

"Wait a minute, go back…you actually _opened_ the holocron?" Atton asked in disbelief.

Rani nodded petulantly, the metal chain jangling as she finally decided to pull out the sapphire engagement ring. Although Carth was still up in the cockpit piloting the ship, she feared what he would think when he had learned she was now in possession of Destrik's ring. After the screaming match with Dustil, Carth had been so preoccupied with worry over her state of mental health—and his son's own tempestuous outburst—that he hadn't noticed her pocket the ring.

Well, now he would know.

"Yes, Indy figured out that Destrik encrypted it so this ring was the key that would unlock the secrets it held."

"And?" Tren asked. "What did you find?"

Indy snorted.

"That's where it gets interesting. Perhaps you should sit for this." A few of them moved to sit while the others remained standing, too engrossed to have noticed Indy's command. "Lord Destrik appeared to me." A few small gasps of shock punctuated the silence in the main hold, but Indy continued, undaunted. "He told me he had another hidden objective beyond just resurrecting the great Sith lords of the past. He had heard whispers throughout the galaxy of a powerful mineral that could be used to produce energy shields of incredible strength. The shields, when complete, would essentially grant his fleet invincibility. But get this—when I asked him which planet he thought was most likely to have these minerals under its surface, he said Telos."

A collective gasp sounded.

"So the bombing…Czerka's involvement…the attempt on our lives…all of it was just so they could gain access to the planet to mine the mineral?" Tren asked.

Rani turned to face her little brother. "Yes. That was why Jana Lorso fought so hard to gain control of the Telos Restoration Project in her debate against me. She knew what was at stake and the price she would pay for losing."

"But it wasn't on their own initiative," Indy continued. "Destrik explained to me he felt the threat of a rogue Sith long before Eklipse ever appeared on the scene. That was why he encoded the holocron with Rani's ring—so that only one of us would ever be able to open it. With the knowledge of these shields, there would be nothing stopping Eklipse from gaining control of the galaxy. And Destrik hated that thought, even more than the very Republic he vowed to destroy."

"His last gift to us," Rani explained.

"Some gift," Atton spat.

"Still, we need to decide what we're going to tell the Jedi Council about this," Indy continued.

"You want my opinion? They are better off not knowing," Atton replied.

"He's right," Evy agreed after a moment of quiet contemplation. "The Jedi Council will confiscate the holocron if they are aware of this. It's safer in our possession."

"Like I said, the less who know, the better," Atton repeated.

Even as she spoke, Rani was nodding in agreement. "Not even the Jedi—or Bastila—should know about the mineral. If word ever got out, the Telos Restoration Effort would be compromised. In the wrong hands, that information could have tragic consequences, especially when you consider these are _impenetrable shields_ we're talking about here."

"Let one of us keep the key and one of us keep the holocron," Evy suggested. "That way, they can't be easily traced back to one another."

"That's a good idea. Okay, let's put it to a vote," Rani suggested. "All those in favor of telling the Jedi Council nothing of what the holocron really is, raise your hand."

A unanimous show of hands confirmed to Rani that they were all in agreement about the potentially devastating consequences of revealing this information to the Jedi. So, she said with a smile, "Good, we're all in agreement on this. At the most, Indy, you tell them it's an artifact that the Sith seem to have taken an interest in but one you need to keep studying in order to understand. _That's all_. Okay?"

"And if they ask about why the Sith are so interested in it? Well, I can't very well tell them it's a parting gift from Destrik."

"There's no need to," Rani explained. "Just say that with Eklipse dead, and the Sith threat all but eradicated, the holocron is no longer of interest to anyone. Anyway, Czerka and the Exchange were acting under Eklipse's command; with Eklipse dead, their interest in finding the holocron will cease."

"I don't know if I believe _that_…" Indy began. "But it's a start."

"Good. Let's go get ready to face the Jedi then."

The crew members murmured their assent and then began filing out of the room as Carth announced they were coming in for a landing.

-------------------------------------------

The battered ship had settled down on a meadow not far off from the Jedi Enclave. The team had decided that opting to land outside the Enclave would serve them better than putting down in the designated landing spot. The fact that the Jedi would most likely need the area and they expected to be held up for a long time made the decision final. Everyone seemed to hold the opinion that if they made this meeting the least troublesome for the Jedi, they'd have more of a chance for a reprieve.

In single file, they left the safe confines of the ship, leaving Dustil behind as he busied himself with running diagnostics on the ship's systems; it was clear he had no desire to follow them, although he did show some apprehension at having to part with Igrayne.

Tren and Mical carried the stretcher Igrayne had been placed on, marching just behind Carth and Rani as the admiral and his beloved led them toward the Enclave. The rest milled behind, keeping up but not overtaking, some in pairs, others alone. They all consisted of a rather drab crew, most of them looking as tired as they felt despite the brief respite they'd earned during the trip to Dantooine. They were all worried about what fate they would meet at the Enclave.

As they neared the Enclave, they saw a figure waiting for them. Drawing closer, they soon recognized the person as Bastila herself, waiting patiently for them with a serene manner about her. She met the two leaders with a polite greeting, giving them both a pleasant smile.

"I have been sent to lead you to the Council," she explained, letting her gaze go over those collected there. "I have also volunteered to present your case, so you get a chance to explain the events to me before you meet the Council. They want to know what you've been up to, as well as your reasons for your actions."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, not out of suspicion, but rather confusion. "Where is Dustil?" she queried carefully, not knowing the fate of the son of Admiral Onasi. The situation was promptly explained to her, and she accepted it as it was, hardly finding fault in Dustil's reason for staying behind. Without him, the Council would more readily accept the group's presence, but they would no doubt request a private meeting with him.

Her gaze turned to Igrayne, who was lying still on the stretcher, eyes gently closed. "Igrayne is pardoned from the proceedings," the Jedi informed them, a slight softness seeping into her formal manner. "Two Jedi connected to the medical wards are waiting by the entrance to take charge of her; you need not worry for your patient, Mical." She gave the young doctor a small smile.

With the brief meeting of an old friend now having passed, they continued onward, Bastila leading the way as they quickly covered ground. When they reached the entrance, the two Jedi, as Bastila had said, took charge of Igrayne's stretcher, paying the others in the group no mind as they went about their appointed duty. They left them promptly with Igrayne, and when Mical tried to follow, Bastila warned him gently that he was needed before the Council.

She led the group to a room just adjacent to the Council chambers, asking them to sit in the seats provided. "The Council will see you soon, but before they do, I would like it if you explained the events to me in more detail. You all have certainly gone through quite an ordeal."

"Yes, and I'd be more than happy to tell you the whole story, but first I must ask: why are you so eager to help absolve us of our crimes? As I recall, you and Master Kavar were at the Council's bidding while on Telos. Why shouldn't we believe they're using you to do their dirty work?"

Bastila's prim expression was held in check as she carefully replied, her tone neutral, "Rubbish. I went against a direct mandate of the Jedi Council to help you because you are my friends. In doing so, I risked dismissal from the Order."

"Well, once you're done patting yourself on the back, why don't you give the Admiral a chance to speak?" Tren replied snidely.

That comment set Bastila off. Her anger now boiled to the surface, culminating in her cheeks becoming flushed and her face adopting its characteristic flustered expression. Her icy blue eyes never seemed so biting as they did now, glaring at Tren with a mixture of hatred and confusion.

"It is good to see you alive and well too, Trentyn."

Tren and Atton exchanged twin glances of bemusement, though the look Evy shot them both was enough to cause them to shut up for the time being. The aura of unease once again settled on the comfortably seated heroes. As Bastila studied each of their faces in turn, she noticed that for many of them, their attention lingered on the potted plant just outside the chamber door, which to her indicated a lack of honesty. Carth, however, was the first to initiate eye contact with her, careful to maintain it as he prepared to speak their case.

"It began on Telos…with the explosion," Carth reminisced.

"Ah, yes," Bastila said, jotting down notes on a datapad he had not noticed before now. She seemed very engrossed in the documenting of his narrative. "When you detonated the explosion that killed many in the medical facility and the Ithorian compound? Many of the families of the deceased are still awaiting settlements from the damage you inflicted."

"No, no. We were set up by an Exchange plant named Aidan. The bomb was his doing," Carina blurted.

"Indeed?"

"The bomb was meant for us," Evy spoke up, her voice petulant as she looked to Carth for approval to continue. A swift, firm shake of the head indicated it was safe for her to proceed, and she did so with caution. "Aidan was a mercenary thug who wanted what Jana Lorso wanted—all the heroes of the Republic dead. He hoped the bomb would accomplish that, but instead it only succeeded in robbing the lives of innocents… If Mical hadn't walked in just in the nick of time, I might have been killed…"

She gave a tender glance to the doctor, who seemed to bashfully indicate that she should think nothing of it.

"That is quite a fantastic scenario," Bastila noted, pausing in the midst of writing her notes to lock eyes with the understandably pale nurse.

"You don't believe me."

"It's not that I don't believe you, but the Council will be searching for something—anything—to discredit you. Do you have any evidence?"

"No," Evy replied, crestfallen. "Only my word."

"There _must_ be something else."

"Well, there _is_ this…" Indy tipped back her fedora and dug her hands into her pocket, retrieving the Sith holocron from its hiding place. As soon as Bastila beheld the ancient Sith markings on the outer shell of the holocron, her eyes widened in fear, registering shock and surprise. "Which would explain why they were after us—and so desperate to do everything in their power to get us out of the way—including kill us—in order to get their paws on it."

"She's right, you know," Atton offered, abandoning Evy's hand for a moment. "By declaring we were the ones who had planted the bomb, they basically signed our death warrant. A nice fat, juicy, hefty bounty was put on our heads. Anyone and everyone within a twenty-mile radius who knew we were fugitives wouldn't hesitate to kill us and collect on that bounty. Leaving Czerka and the Exchange the perfect opportunity to sweep in and steal the holocron for their employer in the midst of all the hubbub."

"Bro, did you just say 'hubbub'?" Tren echoed, shaking his head. Atton wrinkled his nose in response.

"Oh, my," Bastila said, surveying the holocron. "Of course we had heard of the holocron, but we never knew such a thing like this existed. This certainly does explain why you would have been framed for such an atrocious crime."

"Now do you believe us?" Carth pressed.

"It's not that I didn't believe you, Admiral. I just needed solid proof of your innocence. Once the Jedi masters see this, it will be difficult to refute the truth."

Bastila hesitated to touch the holocron, and Indy could tell she was still very scared of it. Which was just fine by her. The holocron belonged in her pocket, just as it had these last few months. She kept a firm grip on it as Bastila rose to greet the pleasant buzzing that signaled the doors to the chamber would be sliding open momentarily to permit them entry.

"Please follow me."

The heroes entered the Council Chamber, noting that all eleven of the masters were assembled before them: Vrook Lamar, Vandar Tokare, Zhar Lestin, Zez-Kai-El, Atris, Bala Nisi, Qual, Lonna Vash, Arren Kae, Shield Norde, and Dorak. The twelfth seat—which had at one time been Kavar's—lay empty, with only a ceremonial robe draped across it in honor of their fallen comrade. The accusatory faces of the remaining Jedi masters spoke louder than if they had been screaming; their verdict was already decided. The proceedings were merely a formality.

"This can't be good," Carth muttered under his breath to Rani as they entered the dome-shaped chamber in stride.

"Remain calm and in control. Do not show your hand," she assured him.

"You're right, gorgeous."

Bastila stopped in the center of the room and assembled them in a smaller circle so that each of them faced one of the Jedi masters. As the eleven heroes came into the room, they noted that the Council floor, which had once been polished regularly, was beginning to look very roughshod. The tiles showed signs of poor upkeep and constant use, and it was no wonder, with the quick succession of wars that the Jedi had been subjected to in only the last year. Most of their funds had been poured into feeding and training their Padawans for the wars to come, not performing routine maintenance on an otherwise perfectly functioning base of operations.

Bastila walked to the very center of the circle between the heroes and, as though on air, was lifted onto a podium that extended from the Council floor so that she towered over each of them and was able to look down upon the Jedi masters. Sunlight streamed through the domed roof, illuminating her tired but pretty features as she searched her datapad for material to begin the proceedings.

"Do you know why we have called you here?" Vrook spoke first, not bothering to keep the obvious reproach out of his voice. He addressed the general congregation, speaking to no one in particular. After his quick assessment of the heroes assembled before him, his gaze landed unceremoniously on Bastila.

"Yes, Master Vrook. The heroes understand the gravitas of the charges at hand, but they are without merit. We have a tangible shred of evidence that I can assure you will absolve them of all crimes. After viewing this evidence, you will find it difficult if not impossible to pass judgment on each of the heroes, who have shown no fault other than immense courage in answering their calling and seeking to defend the Republic—if such can even be considered a fault."

Seduced by the possibility of just what such a piece of evidence might be, Vrook cocked a brow in response.

"Oh, is that so? I must warn you now, Jedi Bastila, that what you say from here on may either implicate or vindicate them. I suggest you choose your words wisely if you wish to acquit these so-called 'heroes' of all blame."

"I understand that, Master."

"Then surely you must also understand that we Jedi are guardians of the peace, and have been for centuries. Surely we know a set-up when we see one. The attack on Telos was a sophisticated, coordinated strike that was executed by trained professionals. This bomb was detonated in a populated area, and first responders described the scene as gruesome. None of the sentient species in the surrounding area were spared, yet you _just happened_ to get away. This call to war undermines all that we stand for. I am surprised, given that some of the heroes are or have been Jedi, that such behavior would be undertaken by them!" This was from Lonna Vash, who spoke with barely restrained anger from her seat two places to the right of Master Vrook.

"Yes, we Jedi—and even those of the Republic—are guardians of the peace. And in times of peace we are able to function in that capacity. We all support efforts to bring stability and peace to war-ravaged Telos, as with other planets and peoples needing our help. That is why, if you carefully examine the events of that day, you will see that the heroes had no part in the senseless massacre. I can assure you that peace and tranquility was foremost in their minds."

Atris intervened with an acid tongue. "Peace? Nonsense! Peace ceased to exist the moment these traitorous 'heroes' conspired to conveniently blow up half a planet, ridding them of what has been—_to some_—a financial thorn in the backside of the Republic." A sardonic smile crossed her face as she extended a well-manicured hand to Rani. "As Ms. Taraster knows, having been in the public eye, the funding for the Telos Restoration Project had become such a struggle between the Republic and Czerka that it was almost better to destroy what remained of the planet entirely than argue over the minute details."

"That's a lie!" Rani replied, forgetting her calm composure for once. She felt the weight of Carth's hand on her shoulder, pulling her back into place, and remembered that speaking even one word could incriminate them all. It was best to leave Bastila with the responsibility of absolving them, and to speak only when spoken to. She closed her eyes and silently asked the Force to imbue the young, dark-haired Jedi with the strength enough to free them of blame.

"Is it?" she replied with a sickeningly sweet smile that beckoned Rani to rejoin in her own defense. She didn't, however. One glance at Carth told her all she needed to know: the woman was baiting her. She wouldn't rise to the occasion, if that was what she wanted. "Well then, how do you answer for this Jedi deserter who slew her Jedi master—as eyewitness accounts tell us—and took off with some madman mercenary in his ship?" Her casual shrug indicated Carina.

"I did not kill Kavar—Jene Cyrus did! And I am no deserter! My eyes were merely opened to the truth that the Jedi had been lying to me all along about my identity and who I was in years past…"

"That is because you were Darth Carina, a dark lord whose power grew too all-consuming before your eventual fall. A mistake we could not allow to happen twice. Isn't that right, Bastila?"

Rather than answer barbed questions, Bastila continued to make her own point—independent of the other Jedi masters.

"To give you a full account of the events, I must return with you a minute to Telos. Nurse Evy LeSange tells me that, the day of the explosion, she was tending a patient named Aidan at the medical facility, when the patient made it known to her that he was an Exchange plant. He had been put there to aid in the death of the heroes—and to uncover the whereabouts of a specific artifact long sought after by his shadowy employer. By framing the heroes for the destruction on Telos, he committed the perfect crime."

"These are wild and reckless imaginings," Vrook snorted, clearly upset by the whole scenario Bastila was so vividly painting. "Do you have any evidence to back them up?"

"As I have said, Master, we do have one artifact I think you will find interesting. Indy…"

On her cue, Indy strode forward, her hand hesitating in her pocket. She had spent months protecting the holocron, that it felt like pure folly to merely hand it over to a Jedi master in a moment of desperation. Still, she couldn't deny the nagging feeling of relief the unburdening of such an item would cause. In the hands of Vrook, for the time being, it would give her mind a bit of a rest from the mystery that gnawed at her brain.

Indy cupped the Sith holocron in her hands as she strode forward. She heard the consecutive gasps from the Jedi masters as she approached Vrook, the artifact still firmly lodged in her hands.

"A Sith holocron…" Vrook breathed. He scooped it up out of her grasp, gazing at it with trepidation, before placing it back in her hands. "Such a thing of evil must never been unlocked. Who knows the terrible secrets it could unleash upon an unsuspecting galaxy?"

"We must have it sent to the laboratory at once for study!" Zhar said excidely, his lekku practically squirming in delight.

"Never!" Vrook shot back. "I dare not meddle with it, for fear of the consequences. It is not to be taken lightly. And I suggest that you do not either." He said this while looking at Indy.

"With all due respect, Master," Indy replied with a curt bow, "I am an archaeologist, and I hope to continue studying it, to learn why it is so important to the Sith. Important enough for them to send half a galaxy of mercs and one of the largest crime syndicates to eradicate us. Something tells me it's not just cooking recipes they're hiding in here."

"Yes, you are right. Perhaps the secret of the latest Sith uprising remains hidden in this holocron. I do not object to your studying it, given your credentials, but take care. You hardly know the extent of the damage you'd unleash if you opened that."

"Yes, of course, Master."

With a dismissive nod, Vrook signaled Indy back to her place. As soon as she settled back into line, Han shot an annoyed sidelong glance at her.

"'Yes, of course, Master'?" he queried.

"Well, you know, I gotta keep with the formalities."

"Uh huh."

Bastila spoke up from the podium after the Jedi masters had convalesced from the shock of seeing the Sith holocron. Her twin pigtails sat neatly behind her shoulders, and the long robe she wore deceptively hid her surprisingly tempting and supple body. She was the picture of refinement as she continued to speak against the charges.

"As you have seen, Masters, with this holocron in their care, the Sith had a great many reasons to frame them for the destruction of Telos. After a bounty was issued on each of their heads, it presented the Sith with an opportunity to steal the holocron in the ensuing chaos. Assuming the heroes had been killed, they would have found and opened the holocron. And who knows what sort of evils the galaxy would have experienced then? I thank the Force that the heroes were not harmed, though not only for that reason alone. It is also because I have known them to be good, faithful friends throughout our acquaintance, and although they have grown in numbers since then, I can honestly say that I would trust each and every one of them with my life."

"And what of the two who are missing from your number—Jedi Igrayne, and the other nameless companion who travels with you?"

"Igrayne is indisposed at the minute. As for the other, his is a matter that requires some delicacy."

"We will speak with him in private."

"Yes, Master. I will inform him. Is there anything else?"

Vrook's face settled in a scowl as he said, "Thank you, Jedi Bastila. That will be all." He stood to his feet, as did all the other Jedi masters. "We will recess for a period of thirty minutes while we discuss and debate our final decision. Until then, this session of the Council has been adjourned."

One by one, the heroes of the Republic filed out of the Council chamber to await the decision. The minutes passed like hours—blindingly slow—and Carth and Atton paced while the others remained quiet. Finally, at length, Tren buried his head in his hands and spoke aloud.

"We're all screwed."

"Oh, come now. Why the dismal outlook?" Evy asked cheerily from beside him.

"Face it. You saw the look on Vrook's face when he dismissed us. _Screwed_."

"On the contrary, I should think any judgment they impart to you would be rather lenient. At least compared with what it would have been before," Bastila added with just a hint of irony in her voice.

"I'm tired of waiting," Mical said quietly, his voice sounding gravelly and very tired. Evy placed a comforting arm around him.

"Don't worry, Mical. It will all be over soon."

A few minutes after this proclamation, an attendant came to inform them the Jedi masters had reached a judgment on the heroes. Steeling her resolve, Bastila pressed on ahead into the chamber, leading the others in a single file line. Carth and Rani followed her, and Evy, Atton, Tren, Mical, Carina, Han, and Indy came next. As they entered the chamber, Master Vrook stood to pronounce their sentence from a floating datapad in front of him.

"The Jedi Council finds the evidence of your innocence irrefutable. Therefore, all charges of your treason against the Jedi Council and the Republic will be dropped. Your names will be cleared accordingly, and you are free to go."

"Just like that?" Carth asked, before Bastila had a chance to jump in.

"Yes."

Somehow he knew this was the only possible outcome. He had envisioned many scenarios in which simple executions at the hands of some of the Republic's finest would put an end to their now worthless lives. Yet, somehow, Bastila had restored their names and the masters' faith in their abilities. Carth couldn't escape a smile from breaking out across his lips as he tugged Rani to him in a tender embrace, his lips trailing kisses along her brow and cheeks. She shared in his happy tears for a moment before turning serious again.

"Carth, there is still one issue left that we must deal with."

"And what is that, Gorgeous?"

"We must pay our respects to our friends who have fallen. Perhaps Bastila can arrange a memorial for them at sundown."

"It is more than fitting," he agreed. "Let me go speak with her."


	32. Epilogue

A congregation of individuals found themselves in a courtyard in the middle of the expansive garden of the Jedi Enclave on Dantooine, surrounding a magnificent spectacle of an empty and unlit pyre. A space of two days had passed since their meeting and eventual pardoning before the Council; the time had been used for them to mentally prepare themselves for what was to come, as well as to prepare for the event itself. The Jedi of the Enclave had mostly taken care of that business, but the former crew of the _Centurion's Blade_ offered what help they could, insistent on being involved in the memorial to honor all those lost in the time since the events that had spun everything into play on Telos.

Facing the memorial, many found their emotions conflicted; they all were beyond a doubt grateful for the end of their exile from Republic space, but the lives it had cost appeared to many a price they'd been unwilling to pay at first. Fate and the Force hadn't given them much of a choice, and so they were left with laments and regrets, unable to make up for mistakes and wishful thinking. The mood was one of sorrow for their lost comrades, as well as those innocents who had the misfortune of being caught in the crossfire.

The Jedi were all scattered around, some alone, some in pairs, while the heroes of the Republic found themselves collected together, wishing to support each other as they together mourned for lost lives. Igrayne had convinced her Jedi keepers that she was well enough and had insisted on participating; she now sat comfortably before the pyre in a hoverchair, an unreadable expression on her gentle features. Rani and Evy flanked their friend; both had hands on her shoulders, offering support in the face of the regretful loss of Bao-Dur. Carth and Atton stood beside their respective lovers and Trentyn next to Atton, all facing the pyre with solemnity. Han and Indy had found a place behind the collected group, with Mical standing alone to their right, and Carina standing alone to their left.

Master Vandar stepped before the whole congregation, all talk disappearing as it was obvious the elderly Jedi had something to say. His gaze slid over the crowd, a solemn but peaceful, expression on his wrinkled visage. "We are collected here today to honor the memory of those lost. We shall hope to the Force that their sacrifice will not have been in vain, and that the Force will embrace them, as it has embraced those before them."

The short speech concluded, the gaze of everyone turned toward the pyre as they watched a Jedi stride up to it and light it with the torch he held in his hands. Silence reigned as the fire licked at the wood, enveloping the pyre and climbing upward as it spread through it. Igrayne lowered her head and cast her gaze at the ground, tears welling up in her eyes. Rani and Evy reacted in the same manner, the three women turning to each other for comfort as they took Igrayne's hands in theirs. Those collected around them gazed at the now roaring fire in sadness, remembering those lost in their long mission to prove their innocence.

Kavar, Bao-Dur, Trinn, Mithic, they were all remembered as they watched the wood be devoured by the flames. It remained like this for hours, until nightfall came to them and the faint coals of the fire formed the only light in the gardens. Many Jedi had already departed, but the small crew found themselves remaining where they were, eyes fixed on the remains of the pyre.

Mical bowed his head slightly, clasping his hands before him, remaining like that for a few moments before approaching where Igrayne sat and gently advising her that getting her rest would be important. A slight nod and she consented. As the young doctor steered her hoverchair away from the pyre and toward the Enclave, they both gave the collected group their farewells before disappearing into the dark.

Han and Indy detached themselves from the group as well, but instead of making their way to their assigned quarters in the direction of the Enclave, they turned down a path flanked by the flora and fauna of the garden, descending deeper as they sought out a private and peaceful spot to converse. Surprisingly, they had gotten little time to compare notes on the events, both preoccupied with the memorial. They settled on a stone bench, heads turned to look at each other. Indy appeared slightly regretful, her gaze frequently flicking away as if she had something on her mind but was uncertain of whether or not it would be wise to broach the topic with Han.

"What is it?" Han intoned softly, his hand finding hers.

"With everything happening," she started, gesturing toward where the pyre was, "It has me thinking about certain things. The past, present, future. It's all very confusing." His hand moved to her shoulder, patting it gently as if he understood. Indy persisted. "For a long time I've known that I don't really know myself." She shifted uncomfortably. "I'm a liar, and I'm not sure I like that."

"A liar?" He appeared surprised. "You're no more a liar than the next man or woman. Everyone is a liar at some point in their life, one way or another, even Jedi."

"'Cept they call it '_bending the truth_,'" she remarked snidely, but soon grew serious again. "I mean, I've lied about who I am to myself as well as others. Remember when I told you about the circumstances surrounding my leaving Corellia for Korriban?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I wasn't in trouble; I was being stupid."

"I know," he replied.

"What?" She fixed him with a bewildered and confused stare, finding his words hard to swallow.

"You didn't think I'd do a background check?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, yes! But we hardly had the time then!" she exclaimed, finding the news disturbing.

"I did it _after_ everything was over," he clarified. "Trouble, my foot," he scoffed. "The only crime you committed was trespassing on university grounds in the middle of the night because you'd _forgotten to get out_."

"Hey!" she cried, slightly indignant that Han was making fun of her. "I was adventurous!"

"Sure," he said, solidly doubtful.

"I wandered off into the Selonian tunnels once during a dig, gone for hours!" He smirked, a quirked eyebrow setting quite the expression. "I could've gotten _eaten_!"

He laughed, patting her shoulder. She stuck out her tongue, punching him in the arm none to gently. With an exclaimed "hey!" from him, she grinned and he smiled back bemusedly as he rubbed his arm. They fell into a silence and it stretched between them; it was comfortable and familiar. Silence was something neither of them had shied away from in their long time knowing each other. Recently it had become awkward, but it appeared that they were slowly getting back on track. Indy found herself extremely grateful; she might've had a chip on her shoulder after her misconceptions about him leaving, but she'd still missed him terribly in her lonesome wanderings. The relief of clearing it up was deafening.

"What are we going to do next?" Han spoke up, fixing her with an unwavering look.

"I don't know," she admitted, one hand taking her fedora off her head as she ran the other through her hair.

"We could try to track down the _Centurion_." The suggestion was gently put forward, and she turned her wide eyes toward him. "I know where she is," he paused. "Bao-Dur told me."

"Where?" she questioned, her expression unreadable.

"Nar Shaddaa, in the junkyard where we got the other ship," he informed, but a frown was on his face. "She isn't in good condition."

"I could guess that," Indy replied, wincing at the painful thought of the state her beloved ship would be in, but she shook her head quickly. "I don't know, maybe it'd be best to let the past be past."

Han smiled, his arm wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her close. "I'm guessing you don't want to go back to your old job, either," he stated, speaking of their old partnership as smugglers. She shook her head and gently rested it on his shoulder.

"No, I want to find…I'm not sure," she trailed off, looking into the darkness.

"Fortune and glory?" he suggested, and she let out a laugh.

-------------

Emerald eyes reflected the swirling wisps of light as the fire consumed the entirety of the wood. Only later, when the coals turned to dusky embers that sprinkled down over the grasses of the lush plain, was Carina moved to tears by the memory of the sorrows experienced onboard Eklipse's ship. She had stood stoically for hours watching the flames lick the air, her mind so firmly entrenched in her memories. Quietly meditating these thoughts, she had not noticed the tiny crowd of observers dissipate. As they fluttered off in different directions—Igrayne to the medical ward, Evy and Atton presumably to their quarters, Carth and Rani to meet with the Council—a voice nudged her to follow. Her legs remained firmly rooted to the ground, however.

How long had it been since her medical training at the Enclave, since entering her brief residency and then joining the others upon Onderon? It could not have been more than a year, yet it seemed like a whole other lifetime. So much had transpired in such a short amount of time. It was difficult to know what to do with herself now that the journey was at an end and her friends were already making plans to depart the Enclave separately. And yet this much she knew: she needed to reacquaint herself with the _real_ Carina, the part of herself she had neglected for far too long.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, thoughts of the past flooding her beleaguered mind. She could not drown out the haunting voices, screams, and whispers that penetrated through the fortress she had constructed around her mind. She called upon the Force for aid in doing so, but there was none to be found.

"Carina!"

The sweet voice of her mother, Serena, penetrated her thoughts. Her eyes closed mechanically and she cradled the memory near.

"Carina!" the voice persisted.

Disrupted from her reverie, Carina let her gaze drift over her shoulder to where a breathless Evy and Rani were scaling the hill. As she stood at the top, Dantooine's usually placid winds assaulting her body from all angles, her green eyes blazed. Evy and Rani looked alarmed at the sight of their friend.

"Carina, what's the matter?" Rani asked, knowing instinctively that something was wrong.

"We've been looking all over for you," the petite, blonde-haired woman added.

"I just need a little time to myself, to think things over."

Rani's chin dipped in a nod.

"Of course, yes, we all do. Come inside and get some dinner and then we can talk about it."

"No, Rani," she said, turning. Her beautiful face was tinged with sadness and regret. "I mean I must leave now. I've lost myself. I need to find my way back before it's late, before I lose all memory of the person I was before everything—before Trayus, before Kavar, before Mical…"

Her cheeks grew rosy at the mention of his name, though this could have just been the cold wind igniting her capillaries. Carina licked her lips and continued.

"I must take my leave of the Order. It is critical that I do right now, otherwise it might be too late. You understand?"

Rani silently nodded.

"Of course, Carina. You'll do what you must. You have always done so."

Evy, however, had tears welling in her large watery eyes, which looked like two limpid pools of aquamarine. It was clear from her expression she wasn't as willing to part with her friend. Her stuffy red nose sniffled as though to echo the sentiment.

"Carina, you can't leave us—not now. Not after all we've been through. What if we lose you again?"

"You won't," she said with a mystifying smile.

"But what if—" Evy persisted.

"_You won't_. I swear to you on my life that I will return—and hopefully with a few more answers than questions."

Just as Evy was about to again protest, Rani caught her delicate wrist in a vise grip.

"No, let her go. There are things in her past she must resolve, and she will never be satisfied until she does."

Rendered mute by that remark, Evy looked up at her friend while biting back tears.

"You'll be missed."

"You always are," Rani assured her.

The three women embraced on the lonely, windswept hill, their well wishes for a safe journey lost in the cacophony of noise created by the vicious air current. Even the kath hounds seemed to take note of the touching farewell, and one of the horned males stood upon a hilltop adjacent to them and produced a low, mournful bleat. Still, they pressed their heads together, enveloped by the warmth of the embrace. Carina's well-worn cloak whipped up at the edges, stirred to life by the wind, and was ripped free of her throat, drifting sky bound as they said their last goodbyes.

---------------

When Evy finally entered the room she shared with Atton in the visitor's quarters at sundown after saying her goodbyes to Carina and parting with Rani for the night, her mood was abysmal. Her eyes, though disconcertingly bright, bore a distinct aura of sadness about them. She wasn't relishing the thought of relaying the news of Carina's departure to Atton, especially so soon after their debriefing and trial.

As the petite, blonde-haired woman shuffled into the room lethargically, her tired gaze was drawn involuntarily to the center of the room. There, in a beautiful mirrored vase, stood a single delicate everlily, a very rare and beautiful flower prized for its long-lasting blooms. Primarily purple, with blackish veins and speckles toward the sepal tips, the color was so striking that Evy had to stop a moment and catch her breath. The bud was in the prime of its bloom, and the delicious nectar produced an alluring aroma she drank in freely. As her eyes surveyed the gift with appreciation, they landed on the man she hadn't realized until now was sitting in the room polishing his blasters.

"You like it?" Atton asked, noticing her change of demeanor the moment their eyes met.

Evy dipped her face coyly, letting her long golden lashes flutter down over her cheeks as she again took another whiff of the intoxicating flower. Unconsciously, she elicited a very pleased-sounding "mmm," which cascaded sweetly over her tongue.

"Guess I'll take that as a yes," the scoundrel said with a self-satisfied grin. He laid aside the silver blasters and the old rag he was using to clean them and approached the young nurse. His ribbed jacket lay tucked over the chair in which he had been sitting, and as he moved to grab it, Evy blinked at him.

"Where are you going?"

"To talk to Carth. Why?"

"Stay with me," she said, sitting down upon one corner of the small cot they were to share that night.

"What's wrong?"

"I just need your support."

"Did something happen?"

Evy took a long breath and released it.

"It's Carina. She's gone."

"Gone where? Out to get supplies?"

"No…_gone_."

She said this with a note of finality so there was no mistaking her meaning. Atton's eyes briefly went wide and his jaw muscles tensed. Then, regaining his calm, he shook away the surprise and shrugged.

"I'm sure she'll come back. She always does."

"There's no guarantee," Evy said. "But Rani said there were things she needed to do, and if she doesn't do them, she will never be satisfied. She seems to believe she is part of a larger destiny. So we let her go."

As she spoke the words, she threaded both hands through her hair, cradling her face in her open palms.

"Force, what have I done? The galaxy's such a dangerous place. If she were ever to be hurt or killed…"

Without thinking, Atton grasped her arms and forced her to look at him, moving to his knees in front of her at the base of the cot.

"Look at me, sweets." Gradually, she uncovered her face and made eye contact with the scoundrel. "You know as well as I do that Carina's one tough cookie. If Rani thought it was in her best interests to let her go, then I'd trust her."

"You're right. It's just…I can't help thinking of all the horrible things that could happen to her, out there and alone. I worry."

Atton simply said, "She's lucky to have a friend like you—one who cares so much. I don't know if she even realizes that."

"She does now," Evy conceded. "I made such a fuss about her leaving, she probably thinks I'm an idiot!"

"Don't beat yourself up about it," he said, stroking back a few wisps of hair that had fallen in front of her large blue-green eyes.

"You're right." The concern that lined Evy's delicate features softened into appreciation. "Thank you. For everything."

"Don't mention it, sweets."

His arms opened enticingly toward her, and they embraced before the everlily. As her lips sought his out, her arms winding around his neck to further enjoy the kiss, only one remaining thought crossed her mind: _Force, how I love him…_

-----------------

Sitting beneath the shade of the ancient tree in the wide open center of the circular courtyard, Carth felt rather than heard Rani's approach. It was a hot day in the crux of what was to be a very stifling Dantooine summer, and he had immediately sought refuge under the large tree, with its arched trunk and aggressively spreading branches, to take the sting off the heat. As he dabbed at the sweat forming in his overgrown beard, Rani's faint footsteps struck the paved ground level. She moved near him, crouching and tucking the backside of her shirt under her bottom as she carved out a comfortable place to sit beside him.

"What are you looking at?" she asked as he let his arm sneak around her shoulders, drawing her nearer him. The slightly rank musk that clung to his damp clothes was nothing a good shower couldn't fix. Perhaps later, when they returned to their quarters in the Enclave, they could enjoy the steam-powered 'fresher together. Rani giggled inwardly at the thought.

"Just watching the sun go down, beautiful. It's kind of romantic, don't you think?"

"I've always thought so."

Carth watched as the final glow of the setting sun turned a brief shade of orange, washing the sky in vibrant warm hues. His dark brown eyes seemed so steadily focused on the vast and boundless plains that rolled just beyond the walls of the Enclave. As Rani leaned in to him, her eyes similarly focused on the sunset, they lapsed into companionable silence, both happy to just enjoy the moment.

At length, she spoke.

"I thought you should know that Carina's gone."

"Atton just told me," he said quietly. "I ran into him a few minutes ago, returning from the visitor's quarters. He also told me he thinks she'll be back, and I have to agree with him."

Rani dragged both knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself as she nestled in beside Carth.

"Me too. I have faith in her."

Despite this pronouncement, her brow creased with worry.

"You all right?"

She hadn't noticed until now that Carth had removed his arm from her shoulders and was using it to massage the skin at the nape of her neck. His hands kneaded her skin with expert precision, working out all the kinks.

"I'll be fine. I'm with you."

Their eyes locked and, startled by the intensity of the connection, they both dissolved into a shared fit of laughter. Rani craned her swan-like neck forward, sweeping a wisp of hair out of her eyes as she looked coyly to the man at her right, decked out in his majestic soldier's uniform.

"And I have a lot to think about. Like a wedding dress, for starters."

"Don't we have to set a date first?" Carth asked with a chuckle.

"The sooner, the better. I want to start our life together, Carth."

"So do I, gorgeous."

Enveloping her in a warm embrace, both arms tucked ever so tightly across her enviably toned midsection, he gave her a delicate squeeze. His lips grazed her shoulder in the barest of kisses, the touch igniting a thousand nerve endings in her body. After all they had endured, their love had only intensified, strengthened by their circumstances and by the profusion of death and destruction they had witnessed. And though they had emerged relatively unscarred from this ordeal, the real wounds would take time to heal—and healing was something they could only do through each other and their unshakeable love.

As the sun slipped behind the lightly speckled surrounding hills, the cool quiet of twilight began to glide across the plains with surprising ease. It was a welcome relief from the sweltering heat, so the lovers remained there until after dark, sitting beneath the tree and talking of hopes and dreams to come.


End file.
